


The Wolf of Highever

by shenko464



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenko464/pseuds/shenko464
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a single night, Hadrian Cousland lost everything dear to him and is plunged into the dark world of being a Grey Warden. With nothing to live for now, Hadrian is fully prepared to give all of himself to his quest for vengeance but finds himself as a pawn in a game that has been in play by the Old Gods for centuries and that Alistair plays an important role in his destiny</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolf's Beginning

0 years

The birthing of any child is deemed as a miracle by the Chantry Priests, except maybe for the mages in some eyes. The Cousland Family, however, deemed themselves lucky enough to not have a mage in the family, as predicted by one of their Mages assigned to them.

Bryce heard the howling of a wolf somewhere and felt something calling him to the woods that surrounded their Castle. He hadn't wanted to leave his wife alone in her labours but duty dictated him to answer the calling. He called for one of the midwives and a small elven woman walked briskly to him, a white hand cloth in her hands. She was clearly on her way to his wife, to help clean her up for the baby's coming into the world. She bowed her head in respect for her superior and Bryce accepted her acknowledgement. He informed her of where he would be should anything happen to his lovely wife and/or the baby. Her head nodded and went ahead to the birthing chambers.

He walked into his quarters and locked the door behind him, not wanting any unwanted intruders. He carefully dressed into clothes more suitable for the woods and was just about to leave his suite when he sensed something standing behind him. Apparently, Zarieth was being considerate tonight. The Blue Wolf was sitting patiently on its haunches, positioned near the large king-sized bed.

It is time. The idea of time resonated in Bryce's head and he nodded. He took out his hand and lightly sliced his palm with a small silver knife. He connected the hand with the immense paw of Zarieth. A soft glow emanated from where the two beings were connected and Bryce gasped at the connection that had flared to life. He could almost feel the bond between strengthen and when asked if he wanted to include his newest son into this, he could only nod in reply. As quickly as it had started, the glow vanished and the hands separated.

Your young pup, Bryce could almost see the grin on the wolf's face. He is destined for great things.

I hope to be there for him when he accomplishes them. Then the grin disappeared, replaced by a saddened look in the wolf's eyes. Zarieth rose up on all fours and moved closer to him. Bryce, despite having known this creature for most of his life, still instinctively flinched when the large creature loomed over him quite dangerously.

It is not my place to tell you of your fate but our kind has always…An idea of warmth and deep trust seeped through the older man and Bryce understood what Zarieth was trying to convey to him. Ever since your ancestor saved our High Lord, we have always watched over you. Keep your friends close, Bryce, but your enemies closer.

The blue wolf disappeared, leaving behind a very concerned man. Zarieth rarely addressed him by his human name. What did the wolf mean by that? Time was no longer afforded to him for further musings when someone gave a polite knock on the door. He emitted a light curse when he forgot to clean up his hurt palm. He looked down at the hand, expecting to see an angry scratch and was shocked to find nothing there at all. No blood, not even a scar. The door opened quietly and there was the same elf again, except this time she had an ecstatic look on her face.

"Milord, please come to your wife and your new son!"

His concerns were immediately replaced by feelings of elation and joy. Unlike his parents, who just wanted one child, he and Eleanor had wanted more kids. Unfortunately, birthing was a painful event, for both parents, and Bryce considered himself lucky that he now has two sons to look after. He dusted off his doublet, wanting to look his best in front of his sweet Eleanor and his family. The Cousland Elder closed the door behind him and he followed the elf down the hallway. Soldiers that patrolled the hallway stopped and saluted him with a hand on the chest. He returned the salutes with a brief nod and walked very quickly to the cleaning room, where his wife was.

If Bryce wasn't expecting a child tonight, he would have thought a demon came in here and slaughtered his lovely wife while she slept in bed. There was the pungent smell of blood that pierced his keen sense of smell and the sheets were scattered around her, the red stains standing out in stark contrast to the original whiteness. Midwives were hovered around her, one soothing the pale lady in bed with a cloth dabbing her face while another attempted to gather the dirty sheets in her arms. Another lady was there, dressed in an unusual attire of light blue robes that were embroidered on the bottom with golden gems. She was like the servants around her: small, slender, and point-eared. He would have thought her a blood mage originally, seeing so much blood in one place at one time. However, Bryce had summoned the elven mage a day ago to help Eleanor with the pains of childbirth. Also, he knew the mage very well, since her mother was in direct service to the Cousland family. In fact, it was her mother who was in charge of all the elven servants and made sure things were running smoothly in the castle, domestic-wise.

"Ariala," The elven mage turned to see who had called her and her lips slightly curved upwards. She bowed her head in deference to Bryce and turned her attention to the pale woman in bed. "How is she?"

"She is fine, milord. As is your son,"

A cooing sound could be heard from the bundle of blankets his wife had in her arms and a pale face peeked out. His heart swelled in joy and his hand gently peeled back the white blanket that covered his son's face. His son had the most startling blue eyes, almost as bright as the blue wolf's. He could almost see a slightly wolfish quality in the baby and he smiled, knowing that Zarieth was right. This boy would do great things in the world.

"Isn't he beautiful, my husband?" A weak voice whispered to him and his eyes sought out the face of his wife. Bryce was a little concerned to see the dark circles under her eyes, the pale and withdrawn features of her face. His concern must have been plain to everyone around him for she gave him a gentle smile and said in a soothing tone, "don't worry, Bryce. I am just tired."

"I have already sent for Fergus," Eleanor managed to say before coughing slightly. The Mage's hand immediately placed itself on her forehead and some colour started to come back. The flush on her cheeks disappeared and there was the more natural rouge covering her face. "Thank you, Ariala. I feel much better."

The mage smiled at her patient and she turned to Bryce, clearly wanting to say something to him before leaving the family.

"She will be fine, milord. Just lots of rest and some quiet for the next two weeks."

"Thank you for your efforts. Your mother is expecting you in her room. I gave her some time off for the next few days so you both can see each other."

Ariala was quite stunned at the generosity of the Cousland's offer. Her mother had always been telling her in her letters that Bryce was a rare human lord, kind, generous and most particular very protective of his servants. Unlike most banns and teryns, he treated them warmly and like a family too. Although propriety dictates the Cousland Teryn to distance himself from his lowly servants, he would have none of that in his castle. He made sure the elves had time off when it was possible and enforced harsh punishments on those who violently protested against the elves. Their rooms, though plain in colours and quality, were quite spacious and clean. Ariala had personally seen what men would do to lovely elves as sometimes it would occur in the circle, despite the presence of First Enchanter Irving and Sir Gregoir.

Bryce chuckled at seeing the stunned look on the Mage's face and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flushed and then bowed before him. Then, she murmured something in an ancient tongue and suddenly, clean sheets displaced the bloody ones and the room's temperature increased slightly to give the room a cozy feeling. Happy with the arrangement, she gestured to the servants to follow her out, leaving the trio in peace.

A little boy ran up to the room, unheeding of all the female servants departing the room. He stood in the doorway, unsure whether he could enter and join his parents or not. His mother must have noticed his arrival for she made a motion with her hand. Bryce looked up to see his oldest son scrambling towards them and his hand firmly planted itself on his shoulder, trying to calm him so as not to wake the baby.

"Fergus, come and see your new brother," Eleanor called out to her oldest son, who stood beside his father. The four-year old almost jumped from his position and he took a few steps forward to his mother's bed, all the while staring at the moving bundle in his mother's arms.

"He's so small, mummy," Fergus commented. The little brunette stood on his tiptoes to see the baby and marveled at how tiny his brother was. Both of his brother's hands fit in Fergus' hand, with some room to spare in the palm.

"That's because he is just a baby, pup," Bryce said, ruffling his son's hair. The boy grumbled at having his hair be in disarray and was just about to say something when the baby made a cooing sound. He regarded the newest member of the family and his grin broadened at the possible pranks he could play on his youngest brother.


	2. A Big Brother's Antic

9 years later

A shadow crept into the suite of the youngest Cousland, its sleeper unaware of its visitor. The unknown person carefully tiptoed to the bed and placed a small silver bowl on the nightstand. Hadrian shifted in his sleep, causing the visitor to pause and wait for him to settle again. Once Hadrian moved into a comfortable position, the person then carefully placed the small hand in a bowl of hot water that was conveniently laid right next to the nightstand. At first nothing happened, much to the visitor’s dismay. Then, a soft moan echoed loudly in the bedroom and the visitor saw Hadrian curl on his side, grinning at the sight of a wet spot pooling around his thighs. He knew the signs of Hadrian waking up: the slight flutter of eyes, a soft groan, and the legs becoming restless. Quickly, he darted out of the bedroom, not wanting to be there when his little brother wakes up.

A sudden shriek pierced the stillness of the early morning hours, waking everybody up, including his parents. Bryce was startled out of his nice dream that had Eleanor in it and doing some very explicit things to him. He grabbed his dirk that was stored away underneath the bed but a hand stayed him, with a soft mumbling coming from his wife. 

“…don’t bother. It’s Fergus giving Hadrian a hard time.” She yawned and rolled over to her right side.  
“Honey, how?”  
“Trust me, my brothers played pranks on each other all the time.” 

Soft snores emanated from her and Bryce, trusting his wife’s words, placed the dirk back to its original place. He curled around his beautiful wife and closed his eyes, letting the smell of her scent waft over him and lull him to sleep. He would definitely have to talk with Fergus about this. But first, sleep.

The other sleepy inhabitants did the very same thing, too used to the pranks that were occurring more and more often. Unfortunately, Fergus was not so lucky in his getaway and, several hours later, found out the hard way that washing out pink dye in his hair was a pain. Of course, the 14 year old perceived that he deserved it and he silently applauded his brother’s smart comeback. Once fully dressed in a blue doublet that neatly hung over his pants made out of Antivan silk, he proceeded to head out to the Dining Quarters, where the family was waiting for him. As soon as he entered, everyone stared at him and he immediately knew that there was something wrong. Bryce made a sound that was suspiciously skin to a snicker before quickly composing himself under Eleanor’s disapproving stare. Fergus’ youngest brother, Hadrian, did his very best to look stoic but, like his father, was not successful either. Instead, he burst out in laughter, holding his head in his hands as he pointed out the new hairstyle his brother wore.

“Sweetheart, you may want to redo your hair with the proper soap.” Eleanor said gently to the blushing teenager, who slowly walked back out and then rushed outside to his quarters. “Hadrian, you are going to wash your own sheets, young man.”

“Aww, but mum!”

“No buts! If you hadn’t tinkered with Fergus’ hair soap, he would be washing them instead.”

The nine year old sighed and continued eating his breakfast. Before doing so, he caught his father’s wink and smiled at his successful attempt in having revenge on his brother.


	3. Initiation Ceremony of the Rite of Passage

_4 years later_

 

Dawn broke out, her fingers reaching as far as the Cousland Castle and beyond. The yellow light, wherever it could get through the clouds, shone into Hadrian’s room and he made a noise, trying to get away from the bright glare. He pulled at the covers that had fallen around his waist earlier in the night and tried to cover his head. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known that Fergus painted the covers with whipped cream and there was a soft ‘splift’ sound when the cover went over his head, covering his face with white stuff.

 

“Maker’s balls, Fergus!!!” Hadrian shouted hoarsely, his frustration growing at being woken so rudely by the sun and then given a sticky surprise for his birthday. His oldest brother hadn’t done anything to him, prank-wise, for the past week or so. Hadrian had a feeling that he was just biding his time, to wait for the perfect moment to strike. Of course Fergus had to _something_ for his birthday and Hadrian was going to get some payback.

 

The poor Cousland grumbled curses when he found the whipped cream to be everywhere, even in his groin. He gave up trying to get back to sleep and ignore the stickiness. Instead, he let out a sound of frustration and got out of bed. There was a knock on the door and he grunted a reply, “yeah, if you don’t mind seeing me naked with white cream all over my arse,”

 

It wasn’t Fergus at the door but his mother and Hadrian knew he was in big trouble for using foul language, even at a young age. Getting over her initial shock at seeing her naked son, Hadrian could tell that she was getting angry by the deepening redness on her cheeks, the vein almost popping out of her forehead. She was tolerant of many things, but never foul language and she probably heard his first curse of the day.

 

“Hadrian, your brother’s,” she stopped for a second and Hadrian was afraid that she either was going to slap across the cheek or faint dead away from seeing her son covered in the most expensive whipped cream they had at home. She took a deep breath and marched towards him, her intent in punishing him clear in her green eyes. He winced at her raised hand but the smack never came. Instead, the hand was gently clasping his cheek, in a spot where there wasn’t any cream. Confused by her actions, he looked at her in puzzlement and saw a smile on her face.

 

“It appears that your brother gave you a present and I will excuse your usage of foul language so early in the morning for today. It is your birthday in fact.”

 

“Errmm...” Hadrian didn’t know what to say to that and his feet shuffled awkwardly.

 

His mother was acting rather strangely and before he could say anything, she kissed him on the forehead and left the room. She glanced at him one more time and shook her head.

 

“Of all the creams we had, he had to use the most expensive one!” She exclaimed, “well, clean yourself off and come to the Antechamber. Your father has something special for you.”

 

The door shut behind her. Luckily for Hadrian, he had his own cleaning room. Twenty minutes later, fully refreshed and feeling clean, the young Cousland hurried to where his father was. Fergus was there, a stupid smile plastered on his pale face. His parents stood in front of the large fireplace, with his father quirking an eyebrow at him. _Damn! Did I miss a spot_? Hadrian hastily looked down at his silk tunic but there was nothing to be found. Fergus’ shit-eating grin just grew larger at his little brother’s flusters and he truly made a big effort in not just bursting out in laughter. _Poor Hadrian! He has no idea what he’s in for!_ Hadrian threw a glare at him but he strolled inside the chamber, trying not to look at Fergus.

 

“It appears that Hadrian received his first present,” Bryce’s voice rumbled and Hadrian could hear it held a hint of amusement. “However, unto serious matters. Today is when you start becoming a man. As you probably observed from Fergus’ thirteenth winter’s harvests, you will know that two items will be given to you: a sword of the finest make,” Bryce offered the sword that was in its scabbard to his youngest with two hands and the Cousland’s head bowed in thanks.

 

“This sword has been handed down from generation to generation. In fact it was the sword of King Calenhad himself before he gave it to our ancestor as a gift.”

 

True to Bryce’s words, the sword was of excellent quality as Hadrian could see from the unusual brilliance in the dragonbone material when he withdrew it partway to see the blade. Even the scabbard was made of the finest material. He could feel it hum through his fingers when he caressed the markings on it. The scabbard was decorated with vines wrapping themselves around it, starting from the tip and stretching all the way to the hilt of the sword. He rubbed his fingers over the visage of a wolf that was etched right below the spot where the sword met the hilt. The wolf was the symbol of the Cousland, although he didn’t know why exactly. Yes, he had been told of how his ancestor saved a wolf and perhaps that spurred him to honour it by emblazoning its face on the shields of Highever. However, why go to such lengths in doing so? The other nobles had the outlines of animals scoured into their own weapons and shields, but Hadrian hadn’t heard of any particular tales behind it. He had read of one book though that mentioned a very old Order, one that spawned from the wars with the Tevinter Imperium. This Order respected the griffons and it was easily visible through the noble features of the animal. Every claw, every limb would drawn in great detail.

 

It seemed as if his parents were waiting for him to clearly revere his gift because when he looked up at his father, he was waiting patiently with his mother at his side, something small in her hands. She approached him as Bryce started to say:

 

”And an amulet that contains our locks of hair. Ariala magically imbued the amulet to where if you touch a particular lock, it will provide you with an image of its owner.”

 

His mother reached out around his neck and clasped the necklace into place under his still silver hair. Unlike Fergus’, it had _not_ darken with age. Fergus’ hair turned into a charcoal shade of black around his age and Hadrian wondered if there was any significance to his silver strands. Again, Hadrian had noticed that there was a visage of a wolf etched on the front and back of the silver amulet. What was with all these symbols of the wolf? Was there something his parents weren’t telling him? Did Fergus know somehow? His mother kissed him on both cheeks, causing him to blush at being given such attention. He was a man now. He didn’t want to be given any kisses by his mother or anyone else.

 

Eleanor Cousland knew what her boy was thinking as soon as she observed his cheeks redden with embarrassment. _Just like Fergus!_ Her boys were growing up so fast and it felt like as if it was only yesterday that Hadrian was born into this world, into her family. She stepped back and returned to Bryce’s side, to let her husband finish what he had to say.

 

“To complete your rite of passage, you will have to do two things: to enter the woods and bring back a rare flower. It will have yellow petals but with a purple centre. The flower blooms only once a year and in the spring months. The other part is to participate in the Summermere Tournament, where all other nobles will gather and compete for the Championship of Arms.”

 

_By the Maker, I wish I was ten years old still! So many chores to do!_ An elbow jabbed him in the ribs and he straightened up immediately, although not without giving Fergus a returning blow.

 

“You will enter the woods early in the morning tomorrow for it will take you all day to find this flower. Seven guards are to be posted outside the gates and if you do not return in time, then there will be a search party. Mind you, if that’s the case, you will have to live in the woods for sometime.”

 

At first Hadrian thought his father to be joking after making that statement but his father’s eyes were very serious. After the Initiative Ceremony of his Manhood, he hung out with Fergus, to get some advice on how to do this without having to spend a night in the Breckland Woods.

 

“I’ll tell you a secret, little brother,” Fergus managed to say in between sword thrusts and parries. “the flower grows in the Clearing. I wondered why Father didn’t tell you but maybe he has his reasons. Maybe he doesn’t want you eating all the food again at supper time.”

 

There was a sound of a metal clashing with another metal and it came from a sword colliding with a shield. Hadrian pushed the sword out of the way with his small Veridium shield and stepped forward to lunge at his brother with his wooden sword.

 

“The Clearing? I thought we weren’t supposed to go there, on pain of death I hear,” Hadrian panted and he had to quickly block another strike from his brother.

 

“Only the direct descendants of the Couslands can go there and even for us, only at certain times of our lives. Like the Rite of Passage. Nice parry,”

 

“Well, it’s almost dusk and I better get some sleep in before tomorrow morning.”

 

Fergus agreed and both brothers saluted to each other as an indication of the match’s end. They went up to their rooms and upon entering his, Hadrian discovered a note lying on his bed. It was in cursive writing and quite elegant too. He picked it up and his eyes perused the message, which read as the following:

 

_Dear Hadrian,_

 

_I am to understand that you will be leaving the Castle very early on the morne._

_Your parents have told me of your quest and I wish you good luck in your endeavors._

_I know mine was quite hard to finish but the effort was worth the attentions._

_My Father and the rest of us are coming down to visit you tomorrow; your mother_

_wanted to throw a surprise party when you come back from the Woods but I guess you know now._

 

_Don’t get lost on the way,_

 

_Kind regards,_

  _Nate Howe_

 

So the Howes will be coming in after he’s done? It would be good to see the other boys again and Delilah too. For some odd reasons, his mother was sorely attempting to arrange events solely around them and he didn’t know what to make of that. It’s not like he didn’t like the girls but they always made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Their stares, the annoying chatter and gossip would irritate him to no end. Plus, there would be that awful smell clinging to them. Sometimes the urge to throw up would well up in his stomach and he would have to politely excuse himself from the company.

 

Delilah was an exception to most noblewomen; she was quiet and demure, despite having two older brothers. Then again, it wouldn’t do to have three boisterous children, especially if one was a girl. However, she too smelled _off_ to him but he never told her that, out of fear of hurting the girl’s feelings. If his own brother was fiercely overprotective of him, he can’t imagine facing the wrath of two overprotective brothers. Thomas Howe was not known for his mercies. Nate Howe, though placed at the opposite end of the spectrum of his brother’s, was equally overprotective of his sister and there were tales of nobles having sticky, non-violent ends. He does roughhouse with his friends but his eyes had that understanding too. He had good ears and paid close attention to whoever was venting their problems to him. Most guys Hadrian knew would just have that glazed expression and then ask a stupid question after the conversation, one to where if the speaker could repeat himself or herself in most cases.

 

He had always liked the youngest Howe, who was only two years older than him, and he had a nice smell associated with him, a smell of fresh leather and soap. _Wait, why am I thinking of him that way?_ Hadrian did not like where his thoughts were going and brushed it off as results of exhaustion and stress of the day. Yes, he will try to spend some time with Delilah, as awful as that may be. With that thought in mind, he clambered into his small but cozy bed and his eyes shut, the last image being of Nate Howe with that trademark smirk on his face.

 

**Preview of Chapter 4:** Hadrian sets out for the Breckland Woods to find the flower and encounters a strange animal.

 

 

 


	4. That's Not A Wolf!

“Maker's breath, father could have told me where this Clearing is!”

 

The Cousland muttered underneath his breath, trying to walk through the woods without disturbing its denizens. He had woken up an hour before dawn and had found that everything was packed for him the night before. His horse was nickering at him when he arrived at the stables and small saddlebags tucked neatly in the saddles. With his parents and sibling seeing him off, he had hoped to do this quickly and get it over with. However, the Maker had other plans for him and one of them was to make it very challenging for him to even get to the Clearing. The first couple of hours passed uneventfully and Hadrian started to think that maybe someone had told the animals ahead of time of his coming.

 

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost missed out on hearing a low snarl ahead. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and stooped even lower in the grass. He brought out the dagger his father gave him for his last year’s birthday and realized that maybe he should have brought that sword with him instead of the 9-in blade. Up ahead was a large black bear and it appeared to be fighting with another creature, a smaller one. He crawled closer, as quietly as he could, and discovered that the creature fighting the bear was a wolf. But this wolf looked quite odd. It had a coat of shorthair instead of the usually longhaired mane that wolves had around this area. The body was too bulky, to big for it to be a wolf, even for a large one that he would occasionally see on hunting trips. On closer inspection, Hadrian found the coat to be matted in blood and severe claw marks dotted the animal’s skin. The bear, to his discovery, was even worse off, bearing a deep gash in its side and it seemed to have a limp as it stumbled awkwardly to the side to dodge a lunge from its opponent. Normally, he would have tried to avoid the situation, but a voice inside him urged him on. _The smaller creature looked like it needed help…Bears are a nuisance in this area and are too many…_

 

The black bear let out a loud bellow and Hadrian saw one of the creature’s legs fall into a deep pothole, thus trapping him in place and being in the way of the bear’s charge. Quickly, he made up his mind and intervened by charging in there and piercing the bear’s back from behind. The large creature roared in pain and it back kicked the sudden stranger. Hadrian deftly dodged the foot and used the momentum to slash the bear on the side, blood pooling out of the wound and bone shone through it. He almost felt sorry for the bear and he truly didn’t want to kill it. Apparently, the bear disagreed and it shoved the third-party fighter to the side, its force pushing Hadrian into a thick trunk. Stars glimmered in front of him and he just barely had time to bring up dagger, the business end sticking towards the bear that lumbered towards him, its intent to kill him clear in its black eyes. Shards of agony lanced his torso and his eyes scrunched closed, knowing that his intervention in this stupid fight just cost his life.

 

When the final blow didn’t come and with a heavy weight collapsing on him, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and saw that the bear landed on him, at least its head did. His torso was bloody and it decorated the dead animal’s muzzle. _Am I dead? Maybe the bear started eating me and I’m just having an outer-body experience…_

 

After a few moments of silence, the black bear didn’t budge and he attempted to move it, only to collapse back into the trunk with a low moan. The animal was too heavy and it was lying right on top of his bloody torso. The young man struggled to move again but found his arms too numb, too heavy to lift. _Maker curse me…first thing I do is get myself injured in this rite…I wonder…if Fergus had a hard time like me…_ That was Hadrian’s last thought before blackness swallowed him whole.

 

-o0o-

 

Movement nearby was what finally woke Hadrian from his dreamless stupor and his eyes blearily cracked opened. Standing over him was that creature again, the one that was fighting the bear. It whined at him, pawing gently at his leg.

 

“I…I’m…trying to move…” Hadrian muttered, groaning as even talking hurt him. He clutched at the source of pain and found that the bear no long laid on top of him. Instead, its dead body was set to the side of him and part of its body was torn open, its organs glistening in the sunlight or at least, what’s left of them. Like the bear, the creature’s snout was also covered in blood and bits of flesh hung off the sharp teeth. _This one must have been very hungry…hope it doesn’t eat me…_

 

The creature pawed at him again and then started to pace to and fro in front of him, its head constantly reaching up, sniffing the air for other predators that could be looming in the vicinity. From what Hadrian could observe and then remember with his fuzzy mind, he recalled that this creature was not a wolf or a dog. The coat was too coarse and its body seemed much too large to hold such a small head. Also, it was twice as big as a normal dog and the legs held more muscle than even a dog at its best peak would have. What was the name? He read it in a book somewhere. Yes, a Mabari.But what was a Mabari doing out in the woods? Where was its Master?

 

The Mabari’s head turned to him but kept pacing, whining softly. Hadrian noticed that the sun had shifted to a low point in the sky, indicating that it was very late in the afternoon, almost reaching the evening hours. _Curse it; I’m going to miss dinner!_ He slowly took a deep breath, not wanting to overdo his body and feel the pain. When the agony hadn’t hit him yet, he attempted to rise up and stood shakily, his arm resting against the tree for support. The Mabari and the bear wavered, as did the trees that surrounded him. He shut his eyes to ward off the dizzy sensation. The forest stopped moving around him and his eyes peered open. The Mabari, this time, stood closer to him, its face nuzzling his leg. He hadn’t realized how large the animal was until his hand brushed against the coat, its back and shoulders placed near mid-thigh.

 

“…yes…what do you want mutt?” Hadrian still had a quest to do and he was running out of time to do it.

 

How much time had he lost? Five candlelights? Six? When he entered the forests, the sun had barely peeked out of the horizon. Now, it was edging closer and closer to that same horizon it had left nine hours before. His family would be gathering around the fireplace now, waiting on a meal cooked by elven servants. His father would be sitting in his wooden chair, hand-made by one of the elves while his mother would sit in hers, knitting a piece of clothing in a leisurely manner. His brother, Fergus, would have probably just finished his training sessions with the Quartermaster, Stefanus and he may have showered (or not) before meeting up with the parents. Would they worry about him? His father mentioned that if he didn’t come back in time, he would send out a search party. He really needed to get a move on.

 

He waited for the forest to come to a standstill before slowly stumbling through the aperture that he had stumbled upon before. His hand still clutched at his torso. The scratch marks weren’t terribly deep, from what he could see. They stung fiercely though and it hurt worse than the ache in his ribs. The last time he felt this way was when Fergus was a little too rough in one of their sparring session and had unintentionally shoved his shield too hard into his chest. The result of that session was a set of cracked ribs, which had to be reset and then healed over the next few weeks. It was unfortunate that a mage was unavailable at that time and Hadrian at that time sorely wished that he himself were a mage so he could heal himself.

 

The Mabari followed closely beside him, still making those annoying whiney noises. However, the Cousland was intrinsically grateful that he wasn’t alone in this forest, which seemed to get darker and darker as he progressed to his destination. Between bouts of delirium, he saw that the Mabari would sometimes leave him for a few minutes and then return, carrying some fresh kill in its huge mouth. Hadrian refused the ‘gifts’ from his new companion. The sun had drifted inexorably down and the whole forest, once blooming in sunshine, truly darkened as night beckoned. The animals themselves seemed to have quieted as they all settled for the night, at least the diurnal types. It was fortunate for the pair to not have any run-ins with other predators that prowled the woods, predators like the bear they had just fought and giant cats such as Polaes, the feline cousins to wolves.

 

Hadrian’s legs started to feel like jelly and he stumbled a couple of times. The Mabari often caught him at times like this and he was now extremely grateful that he had such a companion. Hadrian finally saw something ahead, the moonlight now reflecting off of it. He and the Mabari walked closer to it and there was a relieved sigh coming from the Cousland. _Finally…_

 

He somehow managed to get to the body of water without falling fall flat on his face out of sheer exhaustion and pain. His hands scooped some water out of the pond and he hastily drank it, like a starving man. His Mabari friend, oddly enough, did not join him. It stared at him and then at something else, to his left. He very slowly turned, knowing that any sudden movements on his part would send jolts of pain through his body. There, sitting across from them, was another animal that Hadrian did not wish to see. He had enough of fighting off carnivores for today and he still had yet to find that flower, the sole purpose of this whole journey.

 

A feeling of lethargy struck him and he sat back down. His dagger was already brought out, although Hadrian didn’t know how. His body was acting out of instinct it seems. The creature stood on its haunches and it started to walk towards him. It got closer and hazier as well, Hadrian observed tiredly. Then, its pace changed from that of a timely one to a sudden rush that had him panicking. He tried to run away but his body was too numb, too stubborn to move. _Maker curse it, I’m really going to do die this time!_ His last thought before being overwhelmed by the abyss that had hovered on the edges of his consciousness was that this was a wolf and he could see through it. _Am I seeing things?…_

 

-o0o-

 

Hadrian startled awake, only to find himself lying in a familiar bed. He took in the white stones with dazed confusion and there was a sense of heaviness on his arm. His eyes strayed towards the source of that heaviness and the Cousland youngster was very shocked to see a large head lying across his forearm. If he weren’t so exhausted and groggy, the Cousland would have yanked his arm out of shock.

 

“Hey, you're awake!”

 

A familiar voice called out to him as if from a distance and he attempted to turn his head. It wasn't the person he was expecting to see.

 

“Nate? What? What are you doing here?” His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse; the named visitor brought up a cup of water to him and he slowly drank it, savoring the coolness and sweetness of the liquid.

 

“You don't remember?”

 

Hadrian's thoughts were jumbled together, too mixed in for him to recall what happened. The last thing he could remember was seeing that huge wolf rushing towards him.

 

“You collapsed outside the gates. The guards your father posted called for help and brought you in, along with this…”

 

Nate paused to look at the Mabari with wary eyes. Mabaris were well known for _not_ making good pets. In fact, they make atrocious pets for they had a bad habit in destroying everything in sight, including expensive clothes and eating all the food that was not closely guarded. Additionally, unless the person was its direct master, the Mabaris take orders from no one, thus, making it hard to be disciplined. As if the Mabari knew it was being inspected, it opened its eyes and growled softly at the Howe, who shifted more to the left, away from the hound. If Hadrian wasn’t so tired, he would have laughed at the infamous stoic Howe shying away from an animal. The Mabari and the Howe stared at each other until the Hound seemingly gave up, laying its head on the forearm again.

 

Howe, satisfied that the Mabari wouldn’t make a move on him, cautiously turned to the convalescing Cousland. Nate had always liked the youngest Cousland and when he first arrived with his family to see the birthday boy, he was terribly dismayed to find a patient in bed, rather than a smiling Cousland. On the way to the Cousland Castle, he experienced a horrible sensation, as if someone had gutted him and then left him to die with his entrails hanging out. Apparently, that was happened to the other teenager. He didn’t know the exact details, but from what he gathered from the Cousland Head, Bryce, he knew two things: that Hadrian had indeed found the rare flower, and he somehow stumbled upon a Mabari along the way. Bryce didn’t exactly go into details on how Hadrian managed to get home, wounded as he was, and there was no clear explanation on how the even most severe wounds were healed. Perhaps he could ask Hadrian himself.

 

He was about to ask the young Cousland, but Hadrian’s eyes were closed and the Howe decided that he could ask that question later. He brought up the blankets to the boy’s chin and, ignoring another set of growls from the Mabari, left Hadrian to rest.

-TBC-

 

 


	5. A Conversation Between a Howe and a Cousland

Soft voices echoed in the background, bringing Hadrian to consciousness for what he counted as the fifth time.

 

He was tired of all this sleeping and waking bouts; this time, he hoped, he would be able to stay awake for a whole conversation instead of falling asleep in the middle of it.

 

Nate was with him again and so was his sister, the pale and willowy Delilah, who sat close to him, along with his mother as well. Eleanor was wiping her son’s forehead with a dampened cloth, concern in her eyes.

 

“Hadrian? Pup?”

 

Even his own mother would call him pup in front of other people.

 

It was bad enough for his father to have started it! Whatever protests he had died in a groan when he tried getting up and his mother’s hands pushed him back down gently, but firmly.

 

“He does look better than before. Thank the Maker Ariala was still here,” his mother said, placing the cloth next to a small bowl of water on the tableside.

 

She looked haggard, as did Nate and Fergus, although he had no idea why Nate would have stayed with him.

 

However, she bore her vigilance none too well, unlike the two youthful boys. Her eyes had dark circles around them and her face was unusually pale, even for her. The hair hung over her shoulders in ragged strands, no longer fitted in tight buns. There were even more grey hairs present among her dark brown strands but Hadrian did not want to point _that_ out. It was bad enough to be called pup by his mother in front of everyone, especially the two Howes. He certainly did not want to be smacked across the head for his comment on her appearances.

 

“Ariala?…” his voice was a little bit scratchy but not as hoarse as it had been several days before. His mother offered him another cup of water and Hadrian realized too late that it wasn’t water he was drinking but the awful health poultice. _Yes, Ariala certainly has been here. No one else can give that stuff around without getting hurt_. The bitterness cut through his daze and he heard a cheeky comment on how ugly his face gets when consuming that liquid. The bitter sensation was gradually replaced by a dull ache and the pain was kept at a distance.

 

“See, that stuff is just horrid to take in,” Fergus quipped and he received a disapproving scowl for it from his mother. She leaned forward to Hadrian and felt his temperature with the back of her hand. A tongue clucked and she pulled the blankets up; they had previously fallen around his torso in his bouts of delirium and fever earlier in the night although Hadrian didn’t’ remember.

 

“Your father will be coming in shortly. He had to break up a confrontation between guards this morning. One of them received a black eye for his troubles.”

 

Just as she finished speaking, though, the sound of a door was heard in other wing of the spacious room of the Infirmairy and Fergus’ eyes brightened at the sight of his father approaching them in quiet footsteps, so as not to disturb Hadrian. His efforts, unwarranted as they were, were gratefully received by other patients in the wing. He pushed open a door that led to a private room in which Hadrian had been occupying for the past week since his untimely arrival.

 

“It’s alright, sweetheart, he’s already awake,” Eleanor said in a hushed tone.

 

Bryce stopped by his injured son’s bed and he knelt on one knee. He gave Hadrian a very odd expression; the youth had a feeling that he and his father were going to have a private discussion soon. True to his words, his father turned to the others, saying, “I need a moment with him, please.”

 

He gave no reason why; he didn’t have to since he was head of the Castle. So it wasn’t surprising that the two Howes left without question, followed by Fergus and his mother. His mother regarded him coolly but she left without saying a word, leaving a son and a father alone.

 

“Father, why did you send everybody away? I’m awake this time,” Hadrian pointed out in a respectful tone.

“Son, I need to tell you something, something I should have told you _before_ the Initiation Ceremony.”

 

Hadrian waited, his hands fidgeting with the woolen blanket that covered his body. The elder Cousland took a deep breath and the younger Cousland noticed the weariness on his father’s face, the slumped shoulders, and the grey features previously absent. What could it be that had his father so distraught in telling him?

 

“I told Fergus this but it wasn’t until several months after you were born. Do you remember the story of Edourd Elmric, our great ancestor? Your mother used to read it to you when you were a young boy.”

 

There was a nod and Bryce took the seat his mother had previously occupied. Settling himself comfortably, he took Hadrian’s hands in his and proceeded:

 

“In your fits, you mentioned a name, do you remember?”

 

Bryce received a negative affirmation.

 

“It was Zarieth. You called his name out several times while you had fever in the nights. He must have seen you at the Clearing. Tell me, son, did you drink the water? It’s important that you tell me.”

 

“Yes, father. I thought it-“

 

“it was just a normal pond, correct?” His father interrupted him. “It’s not. That pond…it’s not tainted in the sense of the darkspawn taint. But it’s different.”

“Darkspawn taint? You mean those!”

 

Hadrian started to panic. He didn’t heed his father’s last words for all he could think of was that word. _Darkspawn. Curse of the Maker who wanted to punish the arrogant mages that invaded his seat of Heaven_. Was he going to die? Or worse, would he become like them? His body trembled at the thought but a hand took his chin in a firm grasp and he was forced to look at a weathered face, full of lines and worry colouring his eyes.

 

“This is why I placed a sentence of death on whoever goes near the Clearing. There have been reports of missing persons in the past 30 years. Luckily, with that warning I put out, there’s been no missing persons so far. You

 

remember the story of the Clearing, where Edourd saved the Blue Wolf and was given a boon in return. Well, that boon is only given to the eldest of our family. In Fergus’ case, Zarieth did not accept him but he accepted you. I

 

still don’t understand why but I’m sure the Maker has a reason for this. In any case, according to legend, Edourd was slain in that very spot where he saved the Blue Wolf and from his blood, the pond came into existence.

 

Zarieth warned me that whoever comes near the Clearing ultimately loses his life for it is sacred territory. If someone manages to survive entering that, however, the water is poisonous to any man, even for us. Only Edourd’s direct line can pass into the Clearing but they are still forbidden to drink the waters.”

 

“So am I going to die, pappa?”

 

Bryce noticed that Hadrian used his younger and more affectionate term instead of the formal ‘father.’ His son used it when he was littler. As he grew older though, propriety took a strong hold of the boy and Eleanor probably schooled him in the ways of the court afterwards. The last thing we need, she had once said to him, is for him to be taken advantage due to his height and age.

 

“Ariala hasn’t said anything to me except the usual instructions of an injury such as yours: plenty of rest and fluids. However, I am uncertain in how this will affect you. None of our family has _ever_ drunk the waters. Don’t worry though. I am told that if anyone took that precious liquid into their bodies, they would pass on into the Fade immediately.”

 

“So what can I do, pappa?”

 

“Just live like you’ve been doing, pup.”

 

A hand petted his head and his father rose up from his seat. Again, there was that odd, preoccupied look on his father’s face. The hand that ran through his hair traveled to his shoulder and gave him a firm squeeze.

 

“Just get some rest, son.”

 

Hadrian watched his father stride out of his private room and he stayed up for a long time, thinking over what his father had told him. Sleep was going to be long in coming and when it sneaked up on him, he dreamed of wolves and the Darkspawn hounding him at every turn.

 

-o0o-

 

It wasn’t until later the next day that he was finally released from the white prison of his convalescence. Ariala gave him some restrictions and the major but most debilitating one was that he couldn’t train for at least a month. _It’s to_ _allow your ribs to heal properly. Magic is all well and good but your body still needs time to rest and recover. If you overdo it, then not even healing magic can help you._ That’s what she told him and as much as he hated her advice, he

 

wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. Mages, feared and respected throughout Thedas, were well educated in all manner of subjects, healing most especially.

 

“I see that Ariala finally let you out,” a voice rumbled softly, a tone of amusement colouring the statement. Hadrian was a very good boy but he made a horrible patient. He loathed taking health poultices and would deliberately spit them out when nobody was looking. The person talking to him lounged against his bedroom door and there was that trademark smirk again.

 

“Nate,” Hadrian replied, his eyebrows quirking at the presence of the Howe.

 

Nate pushed off the wall he was leaning against, his leather armour creaking at the movements. A bow was slung across his shoulders, with a quiver of arrows hanging off the broad shoulders of the boy, no, young man, Hadrian corrected himself. Seeing that Hadrian was 15 years old, that would make Nate 17.

 

“Did you come back from a hunt?” Hadrian asked of the Howe, absently opening his door to his bedroom and letting the Howe in. He was sorely tempted to jump unto his bed of satin silks and downy covers and pillows. The ribs though wouldn’t like that and so he pushed it off to another time. Instead, he gingerly walked towards and sat on it, still reveling in the feel of the smooth blankets pressing against his hands. _That feels so good, better than those_ _hospital sheets…_

 

Nate took it upon himself to take off his weapons and place them at the door. There was an unspoken rule throughout the nobles’ houses that any visitor in a private bedroom was required to leave weapons at the door. Of course, not everyone obeys the rules and assassinations came about in the subtlest ways. He took a chair that was in juxtaposition to the Cousland’s queen-sized bed and laid back, his arms behind his head.

 

“Yes, both of our fathers took me and Fergus hunting. They said we have to keep our hunting skills sharp in case there’s a war or whatever.”

 

“War? What’s going on?” Hadrian hadn’t heard any mentions of a war. There were local disputes happening nationwide, but not an open civil war.

 

“Nothing’s going on,” Nate replied, still reclining in his chair, his eyes closed. “Just that father’s acting in his usual way, being paranoid and all.”

 

“sometimes your father acts too paranoid,” Hadrian spoke honestly.

 

He wasn’t afraid of Rendon Howe and he certainly wasn’t afraid of his best friend. Honesty was a valued attribute shared between the two friends and it acted as a glue to their friendship. If they couldn’t be honest with each other, then really, what was the point of having a friend, a person who could point out your faults and your best asset.

 

This time, Hadrian may have taken it too far and he forgot that Nate worshipped his dad. Nate’s back straightened up and he leaned forward, the chair snapping into position. Nate had never hit him out of anger but the cold glare he was giving to the young Cousland clearly told Hadrian to back off. Hadrian didn’t apologize but he didn’t continue either. The Howe took his silence as an apology and returned to reclining in the chair again, the legs threatening to buckle underneath his weight.

 

“Delilah wants to see you,” Nate said randomly.

“Oh, umm, that's nice. Why isn't she here then?”

 

The Howe didn't answer him immediately; he sat forward, causing the chair to snap again into position, albeit with less force than previously. Howe's eyes stared at him and the room seemed to grow hotter with each passing second spent being scrutinized by the Howe. 

“You don't like her,” Nate told Hadrian in a steadfast manner. There was no malice in the tone, but Hadrian knew he had to tread lightly around the Howe when he was like this, intense, intimidating, and just scary-looking.

 

However, his body liked the Howe when he got this and he wished that he had his heavy chainmail on, to hide his growing erection. The young boy shifted uncomfortably, hoping that the Howe wouldn't take note of this. Being a rogue, Nathaniel observed everything, coolly and calculating. He certainly didn't miss the tell-tale tent and the Howe gave him that smirk again, the one that said I know everything about you and you can't hide from me type of smirk.

 

The one smirk he would always gift Hadrian with. 

“Just what is it you want?” Hadrian huffed impatiently. He was tired of playing these kinds of games with the Howe. It was bad enough to do it at the King's court, when he and his famly were invited for a special occasion like the Maker's Day and Andraste's Passover, a day that celebrated her death. He hated politics but thanks to his mother's insistent lessons on propriety and insulting someone without resulting in a physical assault made him very aware of games other people play.

 

“You're grumpy today,”

 

“Well, I just escaped from that hellish place and here I was hoping for some peace and quiet.”

 

Nate snorted at the last statement. Hadrian definitely was in a bad mood but he figured it was due to the week of being able to do nothing.

 

“Why don't you like my sister. She's pretty enough. Your mother has desperately been trying to get you and Delilah together.”

 

“She doesn't know...” Hadrian paused. How could he say that he never had an interest in girls, especially to a stoic Howe. Nate was probably straight as an arrow. Very straight.

 

Nate gave him that intense glare again and the Howe moved a lot closer to him, a lot closer, right into his personal space. Hadrian swallowed a gulp and he fumbled for the words, distracted by brown eyes that focused on him and him only.

 

“Know what?” A whisper and Hadrian just realized that Nate's face was mere inches away. His pink lips were alluring, their fullness begging to be kissed. Hadrian always known that Nate was handsome and girls swarmed over him constantly, even some of the girls at his home, elven and human. He didn't realize just how handsome he was until he got a full look at him. That nose, so particular of the Howes, the pointy chin and the high cheekbones. They fitted perfectly together on light skin that was paler than his. He could almost see his reflection in the Howe's dark eyes and Hadrian had to swallow another gulp. Unable to keep the stare, he had to look away but Nate didn't let him. He clearly wanted his question answered.

 

“I...uhh...”

 

“You can tell your best friend, right? We've known each other since being born, practically speaking.”

 

“Look, just...I...can't...”

 

“can't what?”

 

 

Nate got even impossibly closer and Hadrian could have sworn that if he moved, he would be kissing his friend. _Move! Move and get away! He'll hate you for it._

 

Further thought abruptly halted when a soft pair of lips pressed again his own and Hadrian stiffened, arms numb at his side. Did he move forward to kiss Nate? Or was it Nate that initiated it? Nate drew back, taking Hadrian's stiffness as an answer to his action. He stood up suddenly, backing the chair into the table.

 

“I'm sorry. I was mistaken, please forgive me,” Nate apologized and, before Hadrian could say anything, made for a hasty exit, the door slamming behind him.

-TBC-

 


	6. Could This Be Something More?

Delilah was busy brushing her hair when there was a knock on her door. Since it was still relatively early in the evening hours, she did not suspect foul play. To be on the safe side though, she took out a slim Orlesian dagger, the one her older brother purchased for Andraste’s Day.

 

“Come in,” she shouted, her hand ready to clutch her weapon at a moment’s notice. Her caution was not needed when her brother stumbled in, his face unusually confused instead of having that stony appearance. She placed the dagger back into the drawer of the whitewood vanity and Delilah went to her brother, cupping his cheek as she gazed at him in concern.

 

“What’s the matter, Nathan?”

 

“It’s nothing, really,”

 

“Well, it can’t be nothing because you usually spend most of your time hanging out with the men,” she replied, trying not to sound exasperated with her brother, who has problems in dealing with his emotions. She hadn’t wanted to say _boys_ , even though they clearly were. Nathan bestowed a cold glare, one that made her pull back her hand.

 

“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it,” she finally said in a coarse way, “then don’t bother me!”

 

She was about to turn away when a hand gently grabbed her elbow, prompting her to turn back. When she did, she discovered that Nathan’s eyes were slightly wet with moisture. Was her brother crying?

 

“Nathan? Tell me, what’s wrong.”

 

Her brother inhaled deeply and he then explained to her what had happened between him and Hadrian. She held her questions until her brother’s tale finished. Nathan talked about how he and Hadrian were very good friends and that he screwed it up by that little kiss.

 

“I could have sworn to the Maker,” he said, sitting at the edge of her bed, “that he was fey.” He sat back even further on her bed, messing up her carefully placed duvet cover. She didn’t mind, so long as her brother kept telling her about this. It wasn’t good to keep things bottled and if there were secrets to be had, they usually lead to dire consequences, much like her grandfather. Nathan sighed and he rubbed the sides of his temple with his hands, broad and calloused from the archery sessions he had taken for the past five years.

 

His wretched posture elicited a feeling of pity in Delilah and she joined him on her bed, taking her hands in his. Her evening skirt would be sort of wrinkled before suppertime. She’ll just change into another one. Eleanor’s old clothes fit her marvelously and there were plenty of her clothes to be had in Delilah’s room.

 

“Nathan,” she started, “I’m sure that Hadrian was just, well, surprised by your action.”

 

There was a snort but he didn’t contradict her.

 

“Look, just talk to him,” she continued and her small hands squeezed her brother’s gently. “If he really is that way, then he’ll come around. Whatever you do though, don’t avoid him. That’ll just make things awkward between you,”

 

“It’s already that way,” he said.

 

“Ok, now you’re just being you, just like father. He’s always _assuming_ things, making conclusions on something when there’s not enough evidence to warrant his judgement. Stop that! It’s going to get you killed.”

 

Her admonishment shocked Nathan. She certainly was not like her mother, who would usually try to comfort him in that nasal, annoying, motherly way. Delilah was a strong woman but she balanced her independence with a warm heart that won over a plentiful amount of boys her way, boys that respected her for what she is. _Delilah is right. I…I have to right this…_

 

“Thank you, sister,” his voice sounded stronger and when he stood up, she noticed that his back was more erect than it was when he first came in. “I think I have a meeting with a certain person; see you later.”

 

“Bye, brother,” she kissed him on the cheek and then, after watching him leave her room, regarded the bed with some distaste before tidying it back into its original place.

 

-o0o-

 

Unfortunately for Nathaniel Howe, Hadrian was nowhere to be found before suppertime. It was as if the younger Cousland was avoiding him. How ironic that his sister advised him on not avoiding Hadrian, when clearly it was now the other way around. He asked enough guards that could fill an entire room of his whereabouts but none could give him a satisfied answer. He had contemplated in asking Fergus, but when he heard noises in Fergus’ room, some that sounded much like his sister’s laughter, he decided against it. Night was fast approaching and he was getting desperate in finding Cousland. He had never liked leaving things unanswered but what could he do when the person he wanted to talk to has virtually disappeared from the castle.

 

He was on his way back to his room when he bumped into someone, the other person clearly not watching where he was going. The person stumbled backwards, his balance failing him as he began to fall and Nathan caught at his forearm, saving him from a nasty backfall on stony grounds. It was an elf, Nathan saw, disheveled and looked to be in a hurry. The elf looked back at him fearfully, afraid that the noble he bumped into would strike him down, just like any other noble would do.

 

Nathan didn’t dislike elves but he didn’t like them either. The way they moved, how they cowered when in the presence of their supposed betters grated on his nerves. However, that didn’t mean he mistreated them. A happy slave is one that’s treated well by its master and it was too true at the Howe’s own estate in Amaranthine. His father’s elves were silent, with the more insolent ones missing tongues as punishment for speaking out against their master. Some female elves were used as ‘toys’ by his father’s guards and no matter how hard Nathan tried to halt that particular habit, it still continued. He could still hear the high-pitched screams from one of the guard rooms and from that point on, he had never wanted to take a lover forcefully. _Just like you never wanted to do that to him forcefully._ A voice spoke out inside his head.

 

“I’m s-s-sorry, ser, so sorry, ser,” the elf stammered, bowing profusely and so low that Nathan was afraid of the elf breaking his face.

 

“It’s ok,” Nathan said in a neutral tone, “just mind your step.”

 

“Yes, yes, ser!!”

 

He watched the elf scurry off into the distance and the Howe wondered what could have caused the elf to run into him like that. An answer was given to him when he heard a muffled moan nearby, followed by some shuffling. His senses alert, his mood shifted into the manner of an assassin. His steps were much lighter now and barely audible over the ambient sounds of his environment. As he edged closer to the sound, he observed that it originated from a closed room and he inwardly cursed at himself for not bringing a dagger with him. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the wooden door and with no one nearby, the Howe picked the lock easily. Apparently, the soft click of the broken lock didn’t alert the source for it still continued, even after Howe opened the door and closed it behind him. The room, he found, was rather spacious, too spacious for it to be a closet. It was also too decorative as well. There were little knickknacks on wooden shelves and a couple of portraits hanging on the wall. Also, this room was oddly familiar to him, really familiar especially when he laid eyes on a portrait of the entire Cousland family. _Maker’s balls, am I in Fergus room or Hadrian’s?_

 

With that thought, the Howe was sorely tempted in turning back, but he wanted to know why either Fergus or Hadrian was making that sound. _They could be injured and none of the guards are here to report it. Maybe that elf saw something and he was going to report._ The elf made no mention of this, however, and Howe became a little bit curious as to why. He had no idea why he was still being stealthy; it felt wrong for him to be sneaking around a good friend’s private room or whatever this was. Despite this, he proceeded in his investigation and the Maker Himself seemed to reward him for his efforts as Howe was bestowed with such a view of the person he was looking for.

 

There, lying on the bed, was Hadrian, naked and seemingly wet. It appeared that the boy had taken a shower prior to this and forgot to dry off too. A towel lay forgotten over a chair, the same one Nathan had sat in earlier that morning. However, Nathan's eyes were riveted on his best friend's hand that stroked his erection. He had seen Hadrian naked plenty of times before but somehow, he never paid any attention to it. Now though, when he expressed his desire to Hadrian, he noticed how muscular the thighs were becoming, the developing chest muscles, and he let out a soft groan when Hadrian's back arched, showing off his taught abs, tight from the routine crunches the boy would do every morning, and the impressive hard-on he was sporting. His movements became more frantic and the name that left Hadrian’s lips caused such a jolt of arousal in Nathan that he barely stifled a moan. He quickly covered his mouth, fearful that Hadrian had heard him. When the boy made no move from his position, the Howe relaxed and the Maker had answered his question for him. Hadrian _did_ like him that way. He wasn’t mistaken at all.

 

A bell echoed in the distance, signaling the hour of supper. There was a rude curse emitting from the bed and Nathan decided that he best take his leave, before Hadrian discovers him. If he did, then he would lose all chances of possibly being together with his handsome friend.

 

-o0o-

Hadrian could have sworn he heard some noise but figured it was the guards walking outside, heading to the Dining Hall. It was suppertime and he needed to get ready. He looked down at his body and noticed that he needed to clean up first. Grabbing the towel that hung off the chair, he wiped the evidence of his session off and then sprayed some cologne, to cover its pungent smell. His dog would pick up the scent and try to hump him at the table. That’s _not_ what he wanted to deal with while he is eating and another thing he did not want to deal with is Fergus’ cheeky remarks accompanied by his mother’s disapproving stares. Speaking of his dog, he would probably have to find the mutt again. He kicked the dog out before his shower as he felt oddly uncomfortable masturbating in front of his canine friend.

 

Looking into the vanity mirror, he checked to make sure his clothes were tidy and proper for supper. A stubborn patch of hair at the back still stood up and he searched for that oil made especially for stubborn hair like his. He found the container of the oil, a small amber bottle, and dabbed two fingers in it. The oil was spread on the annoying patch and Hadrian smiled as he flattened it. Ready to go and meet with the Howes and his family, he noticed that something was out of place. A book was knocked forward in one of the bookshelves by the door and Hadrian was fairly certain that the book was not like that when he first entered the room. Someone was in his room, but when and why? He quickly turned around, his senses on high alert. He checked out all the opened spaces, but had found no one staking out in his room. Apparently, whoever it was had left the room without him knowing about it. _Maybe it was Fergus?_

 

He was still thinking about the possible culprit as he walked into the corridor, even into the main dining table, with the family table located at the front of the room. He finally looked up at someone's voice, which called out to him. There were the Howes, sitting along side with his family. Bryce sat the head of the table, with Eleanor sitting to the left side and Fergus on the right side. There was an empty seat beside Fergus and Hadrian assumed that it was for him. However, sitting opposite of that seat was that one person he did not want to see.

 

He took his seat, trying to ignore the eyes of its owner.

 

“It's good to see you,” Nathan greeted him in a courteous manner.

 

“Where were you, Hadrian?” Fergus asked with a mouthful of chicken and it came out as a “fphere fere vyhu ahrhien”

 

“Fergus! What have I told you about not speaking with food in your mouth! It's unbecoming!” Eleanor rebuked him, frowning at her eldest son's poor manners. Bryce shook his head and chuckled, enjoying the sight of his son and wife glaring at each other. He would never get tired of this and he hoped that it would continue until the day he passes into the Fade. Arl Howe, on the other hand, looked rather undisturbed at seeing the poor manners of the Cousland's eldest.

 

“Ah cheer up, Rendon,” Bryce smiled at his friend, raising a goblet to his lips. “Kids are kids, until they kill their first man,”

 

It was true for both boys. Neither had killed men, although they had hunted animals plenty of times. Hadrian developed an extreme distaste for it but necessity pushed his dislikes aside. Survival came first. Survival always comes first.

 

When he started eating, he felt something rub against his foot and he looked up to tell the person to stop doing that. However, whatever he was going to say never left his mouth when a pair of dark eyes gazed at him heatedly. He swallowed and then choked on a piece of venison, the one with the bone in it. He coughed, trying to dislodge it from his throat but to no avail. A pair of hands pounded his back and he grabbed a piece of napkin, in which the meat was spat back into.

 

“Thanks,” Hadrian managed to say between coughs. A glass of water was placed in front of him and he gladly drank it, relishing in the sweetness of it that washed away the burning sensation of having a bone stuck in a throat.

 

“No problem” came the husky reply and Hadrian was indeed thankful that he had already swallowed whatever was in his mouth.

 

“Are you ok, Hadrian?” His father asked him, watching him carefully. In fact, everyone was staring at him, even the elven servants. _Damn it! Why did it have to be him?!_

 

“Yeah,” he replied in a neutral tone, not wanting to give any sign that the person who saved him was causing a reaction within him. He was suddenly glad for thick tunics in the cold seasons.

 

The answer seemed satisfactory enough for those sitting at the table and they continued eating, conversing with the next partner in low tones. Only Delilah was still watching him, a curious expression on her face. Then her lips turned at the corners and Hadrian knew that she was up to something. The rest of the dinner passed uneventfully and Hadrian was grateful that Nathan hadn't touched him or even tried talking to him. He couldn't bear the thought of passing out from choking on dinner in front of everyone. That would just be too embarrassing.

 

It was getting late in the evening when the dinner finally finished, followed by a long period of conversation between the Howes and the Couslands. Wine was served to all of them, even to the youngest child. Hadrian often found his attentions wandering, his mind still trying to figure out who was in the room with him. The Guards were clearly forbidden from entering the rooms of the Couslands and as far as he knew, no guard dared to intrude into their privacies. The conversation of his parents was a soft murmur in the background and Delilah's talk with Fergus bored him. He wished that Fergus would not dance around the girl and just ask the girl out. The way she leaned into him as he discussed his duties and daily routines was a clear sign that she felt something for him. Now, Nathan, that man was an enigma. Always a stoic child, Hadrian was thoroughly surprised by his advances and then his flustered state and hasty escape. Suddenly, thoughts jumbled in his mind and it grew into a bad headache. Maybe he should just go back to his room and rest.

 

He was just about to leave the room when a hand stopped him, prompting him to look back, only to see Nathan's face staring at him with those knowing eyes.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Back to my room. It's getting late,” Hadrian snarled, pulling his arm out of Nathan's grasp. “And I have a headache.”

 

“Let me accompany you,”

 

Hadrian was in no mood to play games with the Howe and Nathan was the type who wouldn't take a 'no' for an answer. The youngest Cousland sighed in defeat.

 

“If you insist,” Nathan smiled at Hadrian's reply, despite it being said in a gruff tone.

 

He bowed a farewell to his father and the rest of the nobles in the room before turning on his feet to follow the vanishing figure of Hadrian Cousland.

 

As soon as they entered the younger Cousland's room, Hadrian found himself bodily pinned against the wooden door, his lips taken up by another pair in a passionate kiss. Eyes flew open in shock and Hadrian's hands came up, to push Nathan away. However, it was unnecessary as Nathan drew back, his heated gaze causing his loins to dampen.

 

“I know you've been thinking about me,” Nathan whispered heatedly in his ear, causing shivers to run down his spine as a gentle hand groped him _down_ there, where not so long ago he was playing with. Hadrian accidentally let out a squeak, to which Nathan found very endearing.

“Nathan! I-”

“Hadrian, before you say anything, I want you to know that,” Nathan paused, suddenly unsure whether he should continue this or not. However, whatever this _thing_ he started, he was determined to see it to the end. “It's just...I'm very comfortable with you.”

Nathan's words were running into another. He cursed his clumsy tongue and wished he had his sister's silvery tongue instead of his brother's strength. He drew back but found a pair of arms embracing him tightly to a warm body. He startled at the gesture and when he looked into the eyes of his best friend, he expected to see mockery or rejection. Instead, there was genuine understanding in those startling blue eyes and Hadrian nuzzled his face with his own.

“I think I know what you mean,” Hadrian said, so softly that the Howe barely heard it over the ambient noise of the Castle. Hadrian knew that Nathan was never good with expressing himself, using his strength or skill with the bow to convey his meanings to other people. His hand trailed from Nathan's silky upper cloth and cupped a cheek in his palm. Nathan leaned into the caress and pressed a light kiss into the hand. He continued to kiss the hand, continuing along the sensitive forearm and then finally landing on Hadrian's full lips.

 

As Nathan kissed him again, slowly and passionately, Hadrian felt something burst in his heart. _Is this love? The one mother mentioned when she told me stories of how she met my father?_ His heart was fluttering and there were butterflies in his stomach, butterflies that were traveling further south. His friend drew back, saliva still linking the two together until it broke. A hand caressed his face and he turned into it, liking how it moved against his smooth cheek and then down his throat.

 

“You are still too young for me to take you, but I can show you other things that we can do,” Nathan said as he kissed Hadrian again, distracting him enough to guide him to the bed that was awaiting them, and then his mouth moved to nibble on his ears, sending a shiver down the boy's frame. With that said, he gave a gentle push and with Hadrian still dazed from his attentions, he blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. However, all Hadrian cared about was Nathan and his hands.

 

-0O0-

 

Nathan was having the most wonderful dream when a knock rudely interrupted his steamy session with Hadrian. A door burst open and then a shocked gasp. The Howe's eyes flew open and he instinctively reached out for his short sword placed by his pillow, fearing an enemy.

“Oh by the Maker!” Someone had shouted and whoever it was had run off before he could take a good look at him or her. The Howe cursed and he stumbled out of bed, hastily putting on his smallclothes as well as a loose t-shirt. His rapid movements caused his lover to stir in the bed beside him. A head peeked out of the covers and eyes blinked slowly at him.

“Nate? Wuzz da matta?” The Howe had to smile at the slurred statement. He had never known that the young Cousland could sound and look so cute first thing in the morning. However, he had to know who it was that opened his bedroom and without warrant. It could have been someone close, like Fergus or even Hadrian's mother. The voice did sound strangely feminine but when he looked down the corridor, all he saw were questioning looks from guards that were patrolling the area. Once they got over the shock of seeing a Howe in their midst, whose room was on the other side of the castle, one of the guards approached him, intent on questioning him.

 

“Milord? Are you lost? Your room is on the east side of the castle.”

 

Nathan coolly glared at the Knight, slightly offended that the Knight would dare question his motive. However, he thought of two things: one, he wasn't equipped in his usual light armor that he wears around the castle and two, if he opened the door any further, the guard would have seen a very naked Cousland. Sometimes being straightforward with a guard was the best approach. He relaxed his stance, which caused the guard to relax in turn, his hand no longer hovering near his weapon.

 

“Hadrian and I were out drinking last night. Since we were closer to his place than mine, I decided to crash here.”

 

While it was technically true that the Cousland Castle “bar” was closer to Hadrian's side of the castle, the guard could have been on a 12-hour shift, starting at the 3rd hour to the moon. He would have known that the two boys were _not_ at the bar that night but Nathan was going to risk it.

 

“Ohh. I see, pardon me, my lord. I'm new here and I don't want anything happening to my lord and his family.”

 

The guard's cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and Nathan sighed. Newbies. The guard saluted him with a gauntleted fist before marching away. Nathan waited until the corridor was briefly empty before shutting the door.

 

“Nathan? Is everything ok?”

 

Hadrian was still in bed, but his eyes were more alert and Nathan found himself getting aroused again by those piercing blue eyes. He forgot to tell Hadrian that blue was his favourite colour; then again, the Cousland probably already knew that.

 

“It's nothing, Hadrian,” Nathan replied, locking the door behind him to ensure that they won't be interrupted next time. He strode over to the bed and leaned in to kiss his lover.

 

“Mmpffhh!” Hadrian moaned into the kiss and his hands clutched at the Howe's broad shoulders.

 

“There's nothing else to do on a free day like this,” Nathan whispered in a husky tone and Hadrian's arms wrapped around his waist, pulling the Howe forward. “How about we continue our session, hmm?”

 

“Yes, please,”

 

The only sounds in the bedroom were breathy moans and sheets rustling.

 

-o0o

 

Apparently, Nathan was too forgiving with the guard and he assumed that the guard hadn't seen anything. Guards were paid to keep their mouths shut, but beer has a tendency to loosen one's lips. The Howe had just left his lover's room to head back to his when he was accosted by his own father, eyes darkened in unexplainable fury.

 

“Father? What's the matter?”

 

Rendon Howe merely motioned for his son to follow down another hallway, into his own quarters. Satisfied that no one was around, he faced his youngest son and slapped him hard on the cheek, leaving a red mark to well up.

 

“By the Maker, father!” Nathan shouted, angry at the physical assault. His father had never hit him before. He usually reserved his anger for the servants at the castle.

 

“Stupid boy!” Rendon spat at him in a venomous tone. “What in the Maker's arse are you doing, fooling around with that brat?”

 

“Brat?” Suddenly, it dawned on Nathan that his father may have heard about their affair, but from who?

 

“No one told me directly,” Rendon answered his silent question, now pacing the space they were in. He was most distressed about this. It was bad enough that Fergus, despite his flirtations with his daughter, clearly had no intention in marrying her. Now, the Arl had to worry about this scandalous affair getting to the other nobles. He had to nip this in the butt, and do it now.

 

“I have a friend in Kirkwall who needs someone as a squire,” his father said abruptly, standing in front of his son. Nathan disliked the manipulative twinkle in his father's eyes. He always had that cold, calculating look whenever he was planning something, even something as simple as his children's birthdays.

 

“Why?”

 

“His squire recently had a riding accident and died; he needs a new one to replace him. In fact, we're leaving tomorrow, so see to Bryce's brat, and pack up. We're leaving first thing tomorrow.”

 

Before Nathan could even protest, his father had already left the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

 

-o0o-

_Several moments later..._

 

“Actually, my father’s sending me away,” Nate said, the chair once again slamming down hard on the stoned floor. His hands wrung themselves and his feet fidgeted, “to the Free Marches.”

 

The Howe’s eyes now no longer gazed at him but found the wall behind Hadrian very interesting, despite its lack of decoration and interesting portraits. Hadrian was quite surprised at the news and he couldn’t figure out what to say to his best friend. Arl Rendon Howe picked Nate as his favourite, even though he was the youngest out of the Howe siblings. He also knew of Nate’s worshiping of him as well. So why? Why would his father send him away to a foreign land?

 

“It’s for squire duty, he says,” Nate went on, trying to sound stoic but failing miserably at it with his body language.

“Is it because…” Hadrian hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he should express himself, especially when Nate was at a low point in an emotional roller coaster.

 

“He didn’t say so, not to me,” Nate answered his unasked question, “but he heard rumors. ”

 

“Oh,” was the monosyllable reply and it was Hadrian’s turn to shift awkwardly, also finding the wall behind Nate interesting.

 

He should have known that this kind of thing wouldn’t last, not with Arl Howe haunting his sons’ every step. No wonder Thomas Howe decided to join the King’s personal guard, to get away from his suspicious father.

 

“I guess there was no chance of us, after all,” Nate whispered quietly to him, not wanting to be overheard by other people, guards or none.

 

His hand gripped Hadrian’s tightly and there was an answering grasp. The two youths looked at each other again and the sense of loss, of something that could have been more between them than close friendship hung heavy in the air, blanketing them in silence. Their faces were already inches away from each other and it would have been so easy for Nate to place his lips on top of the Cousland’s. He couldn’t risk it though, not even for a final good-bye. Hadrian, on the other hand, had other ideas and as soon as no one was watching them, he leaned forward and gave Nate a passionate, farewell kiss. After that, Nate pulled away at the sound of footsteps from the corridor. He cupped Hadrian’s face with his larger hand, to which Hadrian leaned into it, his eyes closing at the gentle affection Nate was showing him. The warmth of his friend’s hand left him, causing him to open his eyes, only to find Nate already having left the room. His action spared him in seeing the mournful expression on Nate’s face, but it still hurt nonetheless.

 

The following day, the Howes were leaving for their home in Amaranthine and the families said their good-byes. Bryce and Rendon fiercely hugged each other while the two mothers pecked on each other’s cheeks. The siblings merely waved good-bye, not showing any signs of affection, especially Nathan and Hadrian, who avoided each other’s stares. Delilah, knowing everything that’s going on between her brothers and the Cousland siblings, truly wanted to jab Nate in the ribs for not even saying a ‘good-bye’ but her mouth shut at the sight of Nate’s mournful gaze. Her brother had talked to her late last night about his conversation with Hadrian and she too hated their father for doing this. A sharp but mindful girl, she observed the subtle signs of the two wanting to be with each other: the brush of hands, the flush on the cheeks whenever a compliment was given to him by the other person, and just the way they acted around each other. It was cruel of her father to do this to Nate. Too cruel and she had an inkling that the home trip was going to be troublesome between the present son and the father.

 

Her carriage ready, Delilah gave the boys a kiss on the cheeks and she took delight in causing Fergus to blush all the way from his ears to his torso. Her hands lifted up her plain riding skirt, one that wouldn’t be missed if she had mud and dirt on it, and, with some help from the porter, climbed into the construct. Nate was already in there, in a foul mood as well. She was definitely not going to have fun traveling back home. Her mother settled in the seat across from them, a mirror lying across her lap.

 

“Now, dears,” she crooned, her head nudging in the direction of the waving Couslands, “wave good-bye. You won’t be seeing them for a long while.”

 

“I thought we were going to be seeing them before Summermere Tournament, for Fergus’ birthday?”

“Your father will be busy in the next few years, so no, we won’t be attending either event unfortunately.”

 

Delilah became disappointed at this. She was really looking forward to seeing Fergus again and Hadrian too. What could be so important to her father that they couldn’t afford a simple visit to the Couslands? The carriage bumped up and she looked out of the window, noticing a very familiar young man standing in the crowd of guards that had waved them. _Could that be him? But Father said he was running errands at Dragon’s Peak…_ The young man glared at her and she quickly averted her gaze, experiencing a horrifying sensation that something ill was brewing and it involved that man. 

 

-TBC-


	7. Knowing Strangers

-o0o-

 

It got terribly lonely at the Castle for Hadrian Cousland. Only three weeks passed since the Howes’ departure but he had already missed the warm presence of Nathan. When Nathan’s father indirectly separated them by sending Nathan on a squire duty, which Hadrian knew it to be an excuse and not out of a real need, the latter wondered on the what ifs already. He was only fifteen years old and yet he had already begun to feel some regrets.

 

His parents knew that their son was missing the absent Howe, but they didn't know the exact reason why. Only Fergus could know and Eleanor was determined in finding out what ailed her youngest son.

 

She had her servant hunt Fergus down and twenty minutes later, there was a soft knock on her door, which opened slowly after her audible permission. Fergus stood in the doorway, a perplexed expression etched on his handsome face. Eleanor watched him walk through the door and when he sat across from her on the bed, she realized at how much he had grown. His whiskers were maturing around his face, but he had spent the time to shave his jaw, leaving barely seen stubble that only added the mature look to him. His dark brown hair, darkened from the original silver colour as a small child, was brushed carefully and no bangs covered his eyes, leaving them bare to the world and its onlookers. Unlike Hadrian's startling blue eyes, Fergus' were of a hazel colour and if one looked even closer, they could see a ring of gold surrounding the iris.

 

He had chosen to appear before her in his evening suit, one that consisted of an Antivan tunic, its burgundy colour a lovely match with the deep blue shade of his trousers, which were Orlesian in origin. Eleanor had to say that even though the Orlesians were their previous conquerors, the nobles really had a taste for fashion and quality in clothes. Just the trousers alone were of finest silk and very expensive. She inwardly winced at the price the tailor asked or rather politely demanded from her. 50 sovereigns for it! She could have bought the exact same pair in Denerim for a quarter of the price. Of course, she was on very friendly terms with Kelia, the shop owner, but that was beside the point.

 

Seeing her son fidget almost nervously before her, she put a sharp rein on her drifting thoughts. She had a goal to meet and it was to see why Hadrian was moping around the castle. No, not moping. He still did his chores and they were performed wonderfully, an unusual behaviour for a boy approaching his 16th winter’s harvests. Whenever she asked him to make his bed, he would do it right then and there. His father’s requests to train and clean his equipment were met with equal vigor. However, at the dinner table, he was strangely quiet; his eyes were often found frequenting the seat opposite him and Eleanor had realized that Nate would sit there whenever he and his family were visiting. Now though, it was just an empty seat, bereft of its handsome occupant.

 

“Mum?”

 

 _Damn it! I’m drifting again!_ Eleanor quickly composed herself, trying to look like the stern mother that she had always been. However, the smirk on her son’s face made her fail miserably and she decided that sometimes the best way to get information is to be direct.

 

“Something is wrong with your brother.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, one borne of a week’s observations and a mother’s intuition. Fergus’ eyes widened and she knew immediately that her hunch was right. Apparently, whatever was wrong with Hadrian had made him uncomfortable enough to talk to anyone, even with his parents.

 

At first her son didn’t’ say anything, and then just when she was about to prod him on, he took a deep breath and his posture relaxed. In turn, she too relaxed. Maybe she was just overreacting.

 

“He’s ok, mother. Perhaps it’s best if you talk to him though.”

 

“He’s nowhere to be found, Fergus. Even the elves don’t know where he is and that ugly mongrel is missing too. How can my son and a large mutt be missing in plain sight?”

 

“I don’t know mother. Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

 

“Fergus,” her tone, no longer amused and having an edge of frustration to it, became deeper and Fergus fidgeted again. _Hadrian needs to get his head out of its ass and talk to mother! She’s scary when she gets mad and I’m a man already!_

 

“Look, you know how the Howes left so suddenly? They were supposed to be here for an entire month. Don’t you think it’s strange that they would only be here for a week, at most?”

 

“Yes, I noticed their abrupt departure. It’s too bad that you flat out refused Delilah’s hand, even after all that time you spent with her!”

 

 _Ahh, yes, mother must have heard about that…_ Fergus winced at the harsh tone but she quieted, letting him continue with his story.

 

“Well, he was just himself, happy and goofy as always. Then as soon as they leave, he’s all depressive and lonely. You know that Delilah was with me the entire time. As for Nate, well, he was with Hadrian.”

 

The silence that rolled over was deadly and ominous. His mother’s face paled considerably and her jaw clenched, her mouth working to say something but couldn’t. Fergus inhaled and he prepared himself for her usual outburst of disapproval. Instead of her horrible shouting and yelling, she hugged him, her arms wrapping themselves around his broad frame.

 

“Thank you, that’s all I need to know,” she whispered to him before kissing him on the cheek. “I’m sure you have work to do and there’s a certain boy I need to find,”

 

Fergus was really shocked by his mother’s behaviour, but then again, he shouldn’t be. He wasn’t given much time to respond as his mother rushed him out of her bedroom, with her closing the door behind them. She turned to face her eldest son and she asked him a weird question.

 

“You are still single, yes? We must arrange something then.”

 

Before he could say something, she had already started heading out to the Training Grounds. The lamps were lit in the corridors and the sun’s rays had declined below the castle walls. It was already 4th hour to the moon and Fergus thought it strange that his mother would be heading out that way instead of walking towards her sewing chambers. He hoped that this time Hadrian would be found and that there would be a smile on his brother’s face.

 

-o0o-

 

Whatever Fergus had wished for came true the next few days. Hadrian’s steps were lighter and his face once again beamed happily at his family members as well as the guards, who too were getting rather worried for their Lord’s son. The elder Cousland really must prod his brother for information. What could his mother have done that he couldn’t do himself, as Hadrian’s own brother? True, they were four years apart but besides the parents, they were all they had. He finally had an opportunity to corner his brother, so to speak, after their regular sparring session.

 

They had just finished their final round, with Fergus ending it with a sword strike that would have neatly cut through Hadrian’s neck, even with a neck guard on. Afterwards, the two brothers retreated to the Cleaning Rooms and sought out for their private rooms, where no guards were permitted inside, except with a written permission from a Cousland. It was there that Fergus discovered how his mother managed to get Hadrian to open up.

 

“So what did mum say to you?” Fergus asked his brother, pulling off a sweat-drenched shirt and toweling his upper half with a clean towel. Hadrian was working on getting out of his greaves and he had managed to wriggle himself into a pair of loose pants before answering. “She persuaded me by saying that I would have to help her out with girl stuff. And then I told her that I was fey.”

 

“What?! I-I didn’t know that.” Fergus spluttered unmanly, dropping the now dirty towel on the stoned floor. Wow, he had no idea that his own brother was that _way_. If word got out that his own brother was fey, it would prove dire for the Cousland House. Ferelden was known for two things: smelling like dogs and their propensity to show disapproval of anyone engaging in the lewd acts of the Maker, such as same-sex relationships. Thankfully, after King Jorly II’s decree that anyone caught harassing the populace due to his or her preferences would be treated the same way, the persecution had decreased drastically. Sadly, it only worsened the situation for those were fey as the punishments for their unnatural ways were meted out in the dark alleys, away from innocent and not so innocent witnesses.

 

Hadrian stiffened at his brother’s expletives and he was disheartened that even his brother would think him different. He was right in not telling Fergus about this particular secret. His change in manner caught Fergus’ eye and the elder Cousland sighed heavily, knowing that perhaps his curses were uncalled for. He had known Hadrian for all of his life and this one tidbit wasn’t going to change the fact that he loved his brother.

 

“Hadrian,” Fergus started to say, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not bothered by that. I’m just hurt that you couldn’t tell _me_. I’ll gut Nathan for this, I promise you.”

 

“No! I mean, it wasn’t Nate’s fault.”

 

“How can you protect that guy! He’s the one that put you in this miserable state!”

 

“Fergus, it wasn’t his fault! I’m quite sure it was his father’s hand in all this.”

 

“His father? You mean Rendon knows about this, about you?”

 

“Well, he didn’t exactly see us, but-“

 

“By the Maker, Hadrian!”

 

“Calm down, Fergus,” Hadrian stood up, having already dressed himself up while Fergus was too busy gawking at him, still half-dressed. “I know some things that would make him not even consider exploiting my secrets.”

 

The firm tone made it clear that the conversation was ended and Fergus could only look helplessly on his brother, who was fast disappearing from his view. However, Fergus was not wondering at how fast Hadrian was walking away from him, but how he had changed so much over the past few weeks. Where was the happy go lucky boy that Fergus knew? The memories of their childhood pranks erupted forth but they were hidden away by the shadows of the present. He knew that his little brother would have a troubling future and swore that Nathan would pay for his transgression.

 

-o0o-

 

Dinnertime was quiet again and Bryce was having quite enough of this unusual silence that reigned their family time with a heavy hand. Eleanor had come to him, almost in tears, several hours earlier and he spent all his time comforting her. He managed to come up with some understanding of her words that were said as coherently as possible in between her light sobs and frustrated moans. Unlike Fergus who didn’t see it coming though, Bryce wasn’t surprised at all to hear of his youngest son’s way. He wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t shocked or saddened by it. His older brother, Maker bless his heart, was that way too and he discovered it too late after going through a loveless marriage.

 

Bryce remembered with a sore heart at seeing his brother’s broken body lying slumped against his own desk, a sharp blade protruding from his back, wet in blood. His brother, Lloyd, couldn’t take it anymore and had opted to take his own life, leaving behind an estranged son and a very happy wife, a woman that Bryce still disliked to this very day. He shivered at the image of his youngest son replacing that of Lloyd and the knife in his hand snapped in two, the wood breaking into splinters that now stabbed into his palm rather painfully.

 

“Darling, are you ok?”

 

A sweet voice asked after him and he looked down at the broken knife, marveling at how easily this fragile thing could be broken. Was this how Hadrian was to meet his fate in the end? To marry under false pretenses and then suffer for it? No, Bryce would rather have no heirs and have a happy son than otherwise. Nothing was more important than his family’s happiness.

 

Speaking of which, he had noticed that Fergus was still single and he was approaching his twentieth summers, an age where a male noble should be engaged to another female noble. Hmmm. He recently received a missive fro Arl Eamon, who requested his presence for his son’s fourth birthday, as the Couslands were the boys’ close parents [?]. Perhaps a nice diversion away from the castle would prove good for all of them.

 

“Yes, dear,” Bryce used a clean cloth, provided by another servant, and pulled out the splinters. “I have some good news for you all.”

 

All heads looked up from their plates to centre on him.

 

“Arl Eamon’s little boy is having his fourth birthday. He wishes us to be there by the New Moon, which is in two weeks and that will give us plenty of time to get there by horse.”

 

 

-o0o-

 

Two weeks was more than enough for the trip to Redcliffe. Apparently the Arl thought so too and he had arranged guards to be posted along the bridge that was located just before the Village's entrance. The guards, seeing the Cousland Crest of the Wolf’s Head, saluted immediately. The gates opened and the carriage, followed by a small troupe of the most trusted guards, entered the premises of Redcliffe Castle. The Guerrins were waiting patiently for them at the main gates of Redcliffe castle, a little boy clutching nervously at his mother’s skirts. The driver pulled back the reins, bringing the carriage to a slow halt. The horses nickered in protest but nonetheless stopped.

 

“Hello, you must be Hadrian,” Eamon’s hand clasped his and Hadrian realized that his gray hair was very deceiving. The strength behind that clasp told the young Cousland that were he to enter a duel with him, he would lose for sure. “Oh my, you have grown quite a bit since I last saw you,”

 

Hadrian didn’t remember seeing the Arl before. It must have been when he was still a baby. His mother confirmed it by saying in return, “well, Eamon, 5-year olds can’t stay that age forever.”

 

Eamon laughed at the statement. He shook his head and then stepped back to reveal a young redhead with a little boy in tow. He picked up the cowering son and settled him next to his chest, perched safely on his arm. “This little one here is the birthday boy, Connor. See hello to them, son.”

 

“Hello.”

 

“He still doesn’t quite have those ‘l’ sounds down yet. Blame it on my wife’s accent.” The Arl earned a sharp elbow from the young lady standing beside him.

 

“Husband, it is difficult to teach him both Orlesian and Ferelden.” Isolde huffed, her eyes glaring pointedly at her wounded husband. She turned to regard the Couslands with a haughty eye, most particularly the young 15 year old, who was remarkably at her height. _Oh my. He’s a tall one for his age. And silver hair, still? Fergus’ hair turned brown by this time._

 

“I am Isolde,” she curtsied politely to him. Hadrian didn't know what to make of this woman. She was of Orlesian nobility, as evidenced by her high cheekbones and small jaw. Her green eyes glinted coldly through her eyelashes and she smelled _off_ to him. He didn't know how he could smell her, but she smelled dangerous and there was an aura of something around her. Not necessarily dark or evil. But there was definitely something there that made Hadrian feel slightly uncomfortable.

 

“Milady,” he replied as politely as he could and the four year-old boy laughed in his father's arms, pointing out at how his hair made him look old.

 

“Fergus, how goes your training?” Eamon had moved on to his brother, who stood patiently beside him. The two men shook hands. “I hear from your father that this one.”

 

Eamon's grey head nudged in Hadrian's direction. “I hear this one's been giving you a hard time.”

 

“It's because I let him,” Fergus made a smart comeback but both brothers knew that it was just a cover-up, that Hadrian really was getting better and better every day. It was as if his younger brother had a sixth sense or something like that. He asked his father about it, but his father brushed his concerns off with a hand and a cryptic statement. ‘ _His senses are just growing’_. What the heck does that mean?

 

“I'm sure it's more than that. Maybe Teagan can find out for himself.”

 

“Where is Teagan by the way?” Fergus was looking for the young Geurrin brother, who was absent in this reunion between old friends. He had hoped to see the boy soon. They had much to talk about.

 

“Oh, he just finished his sparring session. More than likely he is bathing himself. Come, let's go inside. It's quite warm, even for the summer months.” The Couslands followed the leading Arl and his lady back into the cool interior of the castle.

 

Several hours later, all the adults had sat around the fireplace, trading stories about their lives. The boys, however, were off doing their own thing. There was still some sun left in the day and Teagan wanted to test Hadrian's skills in combat himself. He knew that though Fergus was no warrior, he excelled with the bow and short blades. Going against Fergus with a mighty sword and shield would prove unfair. Hadrian, on the other hand, was another story. His father, who was always in communication with the Couslands, had told Teagan that he better sharpen his skills if he wanted to be known for his battle prowess.

 

And apparently, Bryce Cousland wasn't exaggerating about his son's prowess in battle. Teagan found this out the hard way and earned bruises and some minor cuts from his skirmish with the young Cousland. He pulled off his armor and winced when one of his ribs protested with the movement. _Damn, he got me good there!_ He gingerly rubbed his torso and was relieved to not feel any abnormal bumps that would herald a cracked or broken rib. Hadrian had apologized quite profusely afterward and his change in personality completely baffled the younger Guerrin. How could this boy switch from being a nice, innocent boy to a completely focused warrior, who was bent on defeating his opponent. Luckily, both him and the boy had learned self-control. Otherwise, the both of them would be lying in the Infirmary Wing, with healers hovering over them.

 

After dressing himself in more comfortable clothes, he sought out the boys and found them conversing with the ladies of the castle. While Fergus was conversing with a very pretty young lady, Hadrian was idly listening to a female blonde, who was too oblivious to realize that her companion was entirely not interested in her at all.

 

Hadrian's eyes, glazed over in boredom, managed to find his and they brightened, as if saying, _please help me!_

 

Teagan just shook his head at the young boy's predicament and decided that he would help rescue the poor boy from the lady's idle talk.

 

“Ah, there you two.” He said and he walked towards the group. “Shall we move to a comfortable place, like where our parents are, perhaps?”

 

“Well, Oriana and I were thinking of just going out for a walk in the castle. She wants to give me a tour of the castle,” Fergus replied and Teagan saw that _look_ on the elder Cousland's face.

 

 _By the Maker, she already has him wrapped around her finger!_ The young redhead wasn't worried about them though. Oriana, despite being Isolde's close friend, was the opposite of the Arlessa. Where the Arlessa's face was seemingly cold and harsh, Oriana just radiated kindness and beauty. Her short rusty brown hair did nothing to hide her green eyes that peeped out from fine lashes. The lady was slim of build and she was a few inches shorter than Fergus. Teagan knew better than to be deceived by the fragile appearance of Oriana. One, Oriana had come from a wealthy Antivan family. Secondly, there was a popular phrase about Antivan women in particular. _They kill with kindness and poison_. He had seen Oriana play with a writing utensil with a skill of an experienced dagger user. The way her fingers played nimbly with the item and how she fiddled it so carelessly. Antiva was notably known for its Assassins. What was the name again? Ah, yes, the Crows. He shuddered at the thought of the Crows finding his family a target. They could hold out against an army of darkspawn or men but not even armor could prevent the person from being killed with a well-placed stab of a Crow's dagger.

 

“Ok, just remember that Connor's birthday celebration is tomorrow. We're having it early because someone decided to show up a few days early.”

 

There was a round of laughter and the couple started to head out, waving their farewells to those left behind. It was almost as if Oriana was the only reason for the other girls to be there. As soon as she left, the other female nobles gave weak excuses such as needing to bathe right before the celebration, although it wasn't until tomorrow. Hadrian didn't protest and he was actually relieved to see the ladies strolling away from them, their annoying high-pitched voices still heard even some few feet away.

 

“Are you ok? I saw you wincing when you came over,” Hadrian's eyes gazed at his friend's sore ribs thoughtfully. He hadn't meant to hit that hard. All he could think of while fighting him was to win, to win hard and fast.

 

“Yeah, I am. Nothing broken or even cracked.” Teagan's answer was unsatisfactory but Hadrian didn't push it. “You want to see the horses?”

 

“Weren't we just there?”

 

“Well, we were kinda too busy fighting.”

 

“Ok, then,”

 

The boys arrived at the stables and Teagan showed him his own personal horse. It was an Antivan _Palemano_ , a thoroughbred horse and a very pretty one too. The light of the stables didn't do the horse justice but Hadrian could still see the shiny brown coat stretching and twitching over moving muscles. Its face regarded him coolly and the young Cousland placed a hand in front of him, allowing the horse to smell him. It reared back its head and jumped back. Eyes rolled back wildly and the horse jumped nervously in its stable. Teagan's hands shot out to catch the reins in time and he called out to his horse in a quiet tone, trying to calm him. It was already too late though. The other horses were also prancing around in their stables, their front legs pawing the ground nervously.

 

“By the Maker, what's going on?” He shouted over the horse's screams.

 

He was still trying to hold the horse's rein in his hands. Hadrian was confused himself. Usually animals were lured to his presence. Then again, most animals were canines. Even wolves in the Breckland Woods would permit him to touch them. However, his Family's horses never gave this reaction to him. Perhaps they were long used to him and his family.

 

“I probably should leave,” Hadrian said and he walked out of the stables. When he did, the horses immediately calmed down, but theirs ears were still flattened over their heads and their teeth bared angrily. He waited for Teagan to calm the horses down. He watched the young man then check to see if they had enough food and water for the night. If the stable boys had done their jobs right, there would be enough to last the horses all night and the morning. The pails of oats and water were full to the brim and Teagan made a note that he would have to praise the stable boys for doing a good job.

 

“You know, the horses act like that whenever your brother's around. Same with your dad,” Teagan pointed out as both he and Hadrian went in the direction of the Common Rooms, where their parents would be.

 

“Oh really? I didn't know that,”

 

“Yeah, it's really strange. I don't know what to think of it.”

 

 _Neither do I, friend_. The boys didn't talk anymore, lost in their own thoughts of the recent event.

 

-o0o-

 

The next day, thankfully, did not include horse riding and Hadrian had a suspicious feeling that it had to with the way the horses were acting in his family's presence. They even shied away from his own mother, which really shocked him. His mother was the kindest woman ever known, except when punishing the boys of course. On second thought, she can be a very scary lady. Hadrian still remembered at how she embarrassed both boys when the last prank they pulled had accidentally caused one of them to be injured. She forbade them from doing any more antics and forced them into helping her do 'housework.' Even the elven servants were stunned to see the Cousland boys helping them out every day for that month of punishment.

 

A chorus of laughter rang out in the room as the little boy, instead of blowing out the candles, rather smashed his hands in the cake. Isolde scolded her son gently and propped him against the seat again when his body threatened to fall over into the large cake. This time, he managed to blow out the candles and he giggled as he watched the flames snuff out of existence. However, no one noticed the slight blue flare that flashed in the boy’s eyes, no one except for Hadrian who watched him with curious eyes.

 

Hadrian brought up the topic with Teagan a few days later. They were in the library this time and Hadrian was scooping out a book titled _Tevinter Imperium: History of Arcane Arts and its Effects_. He knew that education was vital for any nobles who hoped to involve themselves in the matters of the King’s Court. To outwit someone in a game of knowledge such as King’s Tome, a game of cards that required the person to name the appropriate face on the card and tell three main points of that person, would secure the awe of any dumber person and sometimes prizes were to be won, prizes such as rare manuscripts such as the one in front of Hadrian. However, magic books were quite rare and only limited to the Circle of Magi. Why was it doing out here in Lady Isolde’s books?

 

“Please, mesere, that book is private,” a timid voice said to him and he looked up to see a young dainty-looking female elf. Garbed in loose servant tunics in dull colours of blue and brown, she stood before the boys in a nervous posture. Her hands were twisting with each other while her feet shuffled. It looked like as if she was holding to go relieve herself but couldn’t.

 

“Kallia, if books are here, then they are most certainly _not_ private.” Teagan replied in a neutral tone. Apparently not everyone shared his family’s view on the elven people. Hadrian gave her a kind smile and returned it back to her. Once the book was in her grasp, she turned around and walked away at a brisk pace.

 

“Excuse her for her bad manners, Hadrian,” Teagan apologized to his friend, but Hadrian didn’t mind it. He was even more curious at why there was a book on the Arcane Arts out here in the first place. When the young Cousland asked him, Teagan’s strange behaviour caused red flags to wave in Hadrian’s mind. The older boy’s head swiveled from side to side and his eyes roved over his surroundings. They weren’t entirely alone as they espied an older man dressed in a tutor’s robe teaching a very boring history lesson to a quartet of boys, who were slumping together.

 

“Come with me,” Teagan rose up from his chair and the tone of the boy’s voice made no room for debate. Hadrian followed his friend to a more private room, in fact, it was Teagan’s own study. Several bookshelves and a desk took much of the walls of the room up. Small trinkets decorated the otherwise bare bookshelves while pens and papers were stacked neatly on the desk, giving the whole room an almost Spartan feel.

 

“That book,” Teagan began and Hadrian heard his voice tremble slightly. “It was meant to be in Lady Isolde’s private collection. I have no idea how it got out. Someone must have been looking at it before you and I don’t know who.”

 

Teagan had always acted so confidently, so sure whenever they were around with each other.

 

“I thought all books concerning magic were supposed to be contained at the Circle.”

 

“I know but Lady Isolde insists on collecting rare items such as these.”

 

“Does she even read them?” Orlesian women were more known for flaunting their bodices around and showing off their fashion tastes. Lady Isolde was already an enigma to Hadrian with her odd smell and that dark aura that surrounded her. She was not the only one to have it either. Conner possessed something too and the way his eyes flashed a few moments ago, albeit briefly, clearly told Hadrian that the child was not normal. He could be a Mage. Should he say something? He knew how doting Lady Isolde was, especially if the way she coddled him in front of everybody today had anything to say about it. Even Arl Eamon spoiled his only son as well, bestowing gifts on him lasciviously and Connor was only four. Hadrian shuddered to think how deep Connor’s gifts could dig in Arl Eamon’s treasury when the boy would turn thirteen and began his rite of passage. It was a good thing the Arl was one of the richest and most powerful nobles in all of Ferelden. The only ones higher-ranking than the Geurrins were the Couslands, an old and distinguished line that dated back to the times of King Calenhad himself. However, there was no such thing as a mage noble, no matter what his origins were. If word ever got out that Connor was a Mage, the Chantry would send Templars over quicker than one could say ‘happy birthday’ and then imprison him in that Circle. He had been to the Circle himself once to visit a friend of his, Loren Amell, and he hated it. The atmosphere was claustrophobic and every minute Hadrian was in there, visiting Loren, he could feel eyes boring holes in the back of his head. If it was that bad for a few hours for him as a visitor, he couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was be for his friend who lived there. Sure, the Circle was necessary for it provided the Templars to watch over all the mages in Ferelden. Still, even Hadrian could see that it was little more than a prison, tall and completely shut off from the world. No, Hadrian wouldn’t say anything. Connor deserved some years of happiness before the Templars would come and drag him away.

 

“You’re thinking of something, Hadrian,” Teagan interjected smartly and a grin played on the older boy’s lips.

 

“I was just thinking of how Lady Isolde could come across it. Orlesian women love clothes and shoes,” Hadrian said smoothly, “not books.”

 

“I have no idea,” the taller boy sat down on his chair, his thumbs twirling around each other in lazy circles. “I do know that she has secrets. However, that woman is a monster when you cross her. Touch one hair on her little boy and she’ll go bloody mad on you. Almost tore off a block’s arm off when he accidentally pushed Connor down.”

 

“I think that’s the same with every mother, Teagan.”

 

“True, true. You have a point there.”

 

Both boys let out a mirthful chuckle and they sighed as one. Soon voices clamored rather loudly outside their room and there were loud shouts of ‘Connor.’ It was time to get back to the party, which apparently had come to the Library itself.

 

 

-o0o-

 

_To Arl Rendon Howe,_

 

_It would seem that your speculations are true and evidenced by a number of observations. The most prominent one is the increased frequents of missives sent from B. Cousland to a young lady named Jacquelyn in Orlais. I know there is a Jacquelyn I but she is a high-ranking noble in Orlais, perhaps third in line to the throne. Also, there is talk amongst the guards that the Couslands have a fey. I suspect it is the younger son. What would you have me do with him? Accidents happen all the time in noble families._

 

_Kind regards,_

 

_E. Gilmore_

 

The writer perused over the note, making sure that he left out none of the pertinent information. When he found no mistakes, he folded the letter until it was a third of its size. A pigeon cooed from its cage and he gently took the bird out of its prison. The letter was attached to the pigeon’s leg and he took it to the window of the kitchen. It was late at night and the location he was at hid from the guards’ watchful eyes. He double-checked though. It wouldn’t do to have this letter fall into the wrong hands. Satisfied with the lack of people in his vicinity, he thrust the bird into the air quite sharply and the creature’s wings opened in its attempt not to fall down. Once it balanced itself, it faced northward, towards Amaranthine, and took off.

-TBC-


	8. Hiding in Plain Sight

_//blah//_ Wolf speaking

 _/blah/_ Someone talking in flashback

 _blah_ thought

 **blah** High Lord of the Wolves speaking

-o0o-

Eian Gilmore was an honorable man stuck between a rock and a hard place. As a younger child, he was poor and had wandered aimlessly around the countryside of Amaranthine. It wasn’t until he was taken in by Arl Howe as a teenager when he realized that life was something more than just scrounging for food and seeking shelter from the harsh rains of the Maker. Arl Howe was a lot younger back then. He was also a lot nicer as well and not caught up in court politics. The Orlesian Occupation was the most prominent thing on his mind, as it was on everybody else’s as well.

 

The Orlesians were in their last desperate stretch of maintaining control on the Fereldens, who were clamouring for freedom and fighting for it under one banner, the banner of King Maric. Arl Howe was actively seeking volunteers for his army, who would aide the King in fighting against the Orlesians at the final battle, the one that would mark Loghain as the Hero of River Dane. [?] Even young males were taken in, despite their innocence and naivete [?] in the rapaciousness of war and politics. Young males were most malleable and could be shaped into any form as their superiors saw fit. It was in him that Arl Howe sought to mold his ideas, the ideas of freedom and terrible honor.

 

When the last battle was fought and King Maric reclaimed his mother’s usurped throne, Eian thought he would finally settle down and have a family. Unfortunately, Howe had asked him one final favour before he could do so. / _To prevent this one from occurring, to hinder traitors from reaping benefits of their actions, look out for any signs. Any signs, Even from the King’s own family and friends./_ That was what Arl Howe had told him and at first, Eian Gilmore was tempted to refuse the favour. However, blood debts had stronger holds than anything else, even sovereigns. Arl Howe _had_ taken him in and, throughout his whole career as Howe’s right hand man, he fought for Ferelden’s freedom.

 

Thus, ever since King Maric took the throne, he kept a watchful eye on the people surrounding the King. He even had an eye on the young King Cailan, a rambunctious little boy in the early days of Maric’s rule. He was truly happy to see Ferelden prosper under the stern but mercy hand of King Maric. Perhaps Howe was too paranoid about the Orlesians wanting to finish what they had started: to conquer Ferelden by any means. Unfortunately, the presence of the Grey Wardens made him wary, more so out of the fact that there was an Orlesian female elf hanging around the King, even if it was a short while. He was fairly certain that she was no blood mage, but one couldn’t be too careful. It was expected for any man to look for a warm body after the passing of his wife. Did it have to be an Orlesian though? That observation irked Eian since then and he watched with a careful eye.

 

Ever since Rowan passed into the Fade, King Maric had changed dramatically. He had always been a carefree man, even with the burden of Ferelden placed on his shoulders. However, he became more withdrawn after Rowan’s death, more antisocial. It wasn’t long until he embarked on another Deep Roads Expedition, where he possibly hoped to meet his death fighting the dreaded Darkspawn. Upon his return though, it was as if King Maric was himself again and he started paying more attention to his son, Cailan, who was just six years old.

 

This sudden change of behaviour intrigued Eian to no end and he had to find out the details. After losing an undesirable amount of coin to obtain information, he found out that King Maric had indeed been involved with an Orlesian woman. Her name was Fiona. To make the situation even worse, Fiona was an Elf Mage. Why did the King have to choose to dally with her when he had all the female nobles fawning over him back at home? What in the Maker was he thinking? The affair did not last long though and Fiona had disappeared without a trace. He couldn’t find any tracings of her, not even in Orlais itself. It was as if she never existed at all.

 

He reported this to Arl Howe who just gave him a thin smile. / _Focus on the boy. Forget the woman. She is ultimately of no consequence./_ No consequence? It was as if Howe was ready to have her be assassinated if she stayed any longer. Having his own family, he wasn’t at all too pleased to hear Howe say that in such a casual way, as if her life was not significant. However, orders were orders.

 

He focused on the boy for all his life, up until Cailan was sixteen years old and he was very shocked to see that Cailan had been watching him in turn. Why would this boy dumb himself down deliberately? Was it to fool his people? It worked so far. He liked the boy though and could see the inherent goodness in him. When he was discovered spying on him by Cailan himself, Cailan forgave him. A sixteen-year old Princeling _forgave_ him. That befuddled the sharp mind of Eian Gilmore even more.

 

He actually didn’t report this to Howe. There was a fear that Howe would gut him then and there, despite their history. He had a wife and son to take care of and it was really thanks to the Couslands that they finally have a minor house within the castle walls. He even enjoyed the family life, watching over his son and seeing him grow up so quickly warmed his heart. Even good things do not last long though, especially when Howe cruelly reminded him exactly _who_ he was working for. / _You work for me, Eian, not for him! Remember that well./_ Howe forced him to accompany him on excursions to Dragon’s Peak, the Bannorns, everywhere else except Highever. It wasn’t until the Howes’ visit to the Cousland Castle that Howe left him there, with another mission for him. He was getting really tired of all this but this man had saved his life and he owed him.

 

His own son managed to get in the Cousland’s personal entourage of Guards and he wasn’t expecting him to suddenly befriend Hadrian. It appeared as if they were involved with each other somehow, as if they were more than just friends. When his son returned home from a grueling day of training, he set him aside and asked him if he was. His son’s eyes were as wide as dinnerplates when such a question was asked of him. / _Dad, he and I are just good friends. I know he’s fey but I’m not. Don’t worry about it. I’ll still give you kids someday./_ That was when Eian first found out that Hadrian was fey and he had to report this to Howe. There was no response to his letter that was sent by bird two weeks after the conversation. Then, after a month of hearing no reply, a pigeon landed outside his study window, and there was a missive waiting for him. Howe already knew about this. His next order was to confirm his own observations about the Orlesians coming back into the country. If Hadrian had met with an untimely accident, the suspicion would fall on him without question.

 

Eian had observed the visits of the Cousland’s family to a minor estate just inside the Orlesian border. In their absents, he very discreetly went through their things with gloved hands and a shrewd mind. He found several letters that were locked up in their chest. The locks were of high quality and any thief of lesser skill wouldn’t have been to retrieve them without breaking the lock and thus alerting the owner of its mishandling. His heart sank when he read one letter in particular.

 

_Dear Alpha,_

 

_It is my understanding that the King has unfortunately lost his wife, Rowan, to the Darkspawn taint. Perhaps now is the time to see each other once again._

_It would benefit us both if you could bring your sons as well. We have been waiting to see them for a very long time._

 

_Truly yours,_

_Beta_

 

The names were coded of course. But why? Was Bryce afraid of someone reading his hidden letters and thinking the worst of him? It was too late now and Eian, with a heavy heart, knew that Howe was right. The letter was dated 8:12, a few days right before the Couslands departure to Redcliffe Castle. Other letters were to be found lying underneath that particular one. Another one, written in very elegant handwriting, caught his attention. It read as the following:

 

_Jacquelyn,_

 

_It was good seeing you, after all these years. I hope my sons have impressed even you. Perhaps Celene would like to see them herself. She always did like seeing handsome men with skills in battle. It would do her much honor if she could see them fight._

 

_Bryce_

 

There was no mistaken it now. There was only one Jacquelyn and she was third in line to Empress Celene I. Was Bryce trying to marry off his sons to the Orlesian nobility? That was treachery by law. He didn’t have time to read the others when he heard voices in the corridor. He hastily returned everything to its original state and slinked out of the room before Bryce entered it.

 

With the letters boring holes in his memory, he started his main quest with a heavy heart and knew that the Maker would make him pay dearly for it.

 

The Couslands had just returned from their trip to Redcliffe Castle. The visit exhausted them and immediately upon their arrival, their servants started helping them out to the Castle, mindful of their Masters’ slow movements. Hot baths awaited them and their bodies welcomed the clean sheets with great relish. The elves ensured that food and drink was given to them without haste or spillage. The Couslands had always treated their servants well, better than their noble peers, who held a scornful and reproachful eye to them. To their peers, the servants were nothing. They were here to serve them and only them.

 

The next day was better received and soon the routine started all over again. The Cousland boys trained and trained from sunup to sunrise while Eleanor chatted amenably with visiting nobles from the surrounding vicinities. Bryce did his own thing, overseeing the Guards and ensuring that everyone was taken care of within his walls. They never knew that someone was observing their activities with a patient eye.

 

They did throw off their spy in a loop with one strange activity. It occurred on the night of a full moon and it was as if the whole family had disappeared for the whole night. Eian would eventually discover this to be a habit, but he wouldn’t find this out until several weeks later after jotting down notes and seeing patterns. What in the Black City were they doing?

 

-o0o-

 

Bryce had taken his entire family to the Clearing, where Hadrian drank the waters of the pond. His close servants knew what they were up to and prepared the horses, stuffing the saddlebags with essentials, prior to their leaving. Hadrian was quite confused when his father led them to that site, where he saw that strange ghostly apparition of a wolf. He asked Fergus, who was walking besides him solemnly.

 

“Just watch and listen, Hadrian,” was all Fergus said before silently walking through the woods with light footsteps. The night sky was clear, dotted with sparkling stars and the moon sat in the sky, watching over the four people plus Hadrian’s faithful canine companion journey to the large pond. They stopped upon reaching it and Hadrian watched with apprehensive eyes as he saw something take shape on the opposite side of the Pond.

 

There it was again, that same wolf. Except this time, it was more solid. It seemed to be waiting for them for as soon as they arrived it rose on all fours and loped easily across the pond, and, Hadrian noticed with a shiver, right on top of the water. The wolf was easier to see once it stopped in front of them. Hadrian saw that the wolf was bathed in blue light and his eyes strayed to the moon above them. The moon itself was white so where did the blue colour come from?

 

_I see you,_

 

A voice spoke calmly to them and Hadrian gasped at how the wolf spoke to them but without moving its mouth.

 

“We see you, Zarieth,” Bryce bowed respectively before him. In turn, both his mother and brother bowed as well. Hadrian instinctively followed his family, although he was unsure of what exactly was occurring here.

 

// _You have brought him here, Alpha. He has grown much since the last.//_

 

“Kids, unfortunately, grow up with time and experience,” Bryce murmured in a low voice.

 

There was a warm chuckle and Hadrian could feel the approval emanating from the reverent beast sitting before them.

 

// _As do we all. Bring the young pup forward, Alpha.//_

 

Bryce motioned his son to step forward and Hadrian did so, his nervousness increasing with each inch he got closer to the wolf. It seemed as if the wolf was getting bigger and bigger with each step.

 

// _You are mourning, young pup. But this too will pass._ _Wolves mate for life but Nathan was not to be yours. His path is directed elsewhere.//_

 

“How’d you know?”

 

// _We know many things, but not the final destination. That is the Maker’s secret_. _It is time though for you to accept your duty as a Cousland.//_

 

“Duty?”

 

Hadrian looked to his family for answers but all they gave him was an encouraging smile. He turned his attention to the wolf.

 

_//You are the only Cousland to ever drink from this sacred place. Such an event has been unforeseen. The High Lord of the Wolves Himself is confused as to why it occurred in the first place.//_

 

“But why me? What’s so special about me?” Hadrian didn’t think himself particularly special.

 

He worked hard to uphold the image of a Cousland: honourable, protective, and dutiful. Other than that, he was just a simple young boy trying to survive in this harsh world of men and beasts.

 

// _We do not know. We can only accept this and move forward, as we all should do. Give me your hand.//_

 

The request startled the young Cousland and there was another wave of warmth and reassurance coming from the wolf. Feeling assured that the wolf would not harm him or his family, he slowly brought his hand out, palm facing up. The wolf placed his large paw on top of the palm and Hadrian let out a soft gasp as he felt something shift in his mind. His vision then whitened and there was a brief moment of pain before it cleared away.

 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself still standing before the wolf, but someone was supporting him. It was Fergus’ arm around his waist that kept him standing. What happened?

 

_//It is complete. With this contract in place, you, Bryce, are no longer required to upkeep it. When death comes to you, the contract will not be nullified as it would be.//_

 

“C-c-contract?”

 

_//Yes. Thanks to your ancestor, the Wolves and the Couslands have always been bound, for good or ill. Only the Alphas were charged to upkeep this. However, the High Lord requested that it be passed to you.//_

 

“What about Fergus?”

 

 _//Fergus is no longer pure_.//

 

“Pure?”

 

Hadrian turned his head to face Fergus, who was blushing madly. Their mother looked ready to burst with indignation but she kept her mouth shut. It dawned on him then that the wolf meant ‘pure’ as in the body not being violated in anyway.

 

“You can keep quit staring at me, brother,” Fergus hissed unhappily, but Hadrian knew his brother was too embarrassed to put the full force of the venom in his reply.

 

“Didn’t know you were a virgin until now, Fergus,” Hadrian said in a teasing tone. The blush on his brother’s face spread and Hadrian could hear the wolf laughing at their banter.

 

// _Take them back, Alpha. Hadrian will soon need his rest and he won’t find it here.//_

 

“Yes, Zarieth,” Bryce replied and he beckoned the boys to follow him out of the Clearing.

 

Once they left, another wolf took up residence besides Zarieth. It was much, much bigger than he and if Hadrian were here to see him, he would have needed another pair of pants to wear.

 

**Has it been done, Zarieth?**

 

_Yes, Alpha._

 

**Good. We shall see how this young one fares in the turmoil ahead. If he passes, then this world will change forever.**

 

-TBC-


	9. King's Visit

-o0o-

_1 year later, the King’s Visit_

 

It had been a while since the King made his last visit to the Couslands. Ever since he had successfully thwarted the Orlesians out of Ferelden, he was busy dealing with the aftermath. His allies, once friendly with each other as they united under one banner were now bickering amongst each other. Each noble house wanted to have the biggest prize, the largest landholding to fit their egos. Only a few remain ever vigilant of their pride and the Couslands were one of them.

  
  


Bryce had been with the King since before he reclaimed the usurped throne of Ferelden. He and Maric were very close friends; some matters that Maric had not told even Loghain about were conveyed to Bryce in a quiet, confident manner. Bryce had no desire in getting between Maric and Loghain with their friendship, but even he had to agree that Loghain’s paranoia was uncalled for in a time of peace. The Emperor of Orlais had ceded for a neutral concession, not wanting to risk losing his most prized military sector, the Chevaliers to a bunch of dogs as he had said at that Treaty of Orlais. Thankfully, his daughter, now Empress Celene I, was more open-minded and willing to talk things over with the King of Ferelden. Her willingness was not heeded though by Loghain and the King’s personal advisor had suggested the King in keeping a tight rein on the borders of Orlais and Ferelden. Although King Maric did keep a close eye on the Orlesians, he had doubts on whether it was a good idea to further antagonize their strained truce. In fact, the Orlaisens weren’t the only culprits in his mother’s deaths and Bryce was a personal participant in watching Maric dispatch his foes so cunningly at a false peace conference with the Ferelden nobles. However, Loghain, ever the persistent dog that he was to his Master, hounded after Maric, nipping his heels to direct the course of history itself.

  
  


When he received a letter, written by King Maric himself, his heart sank when the King said he would drop by to visit them for a week. Loghain would probably be with him as well and Bryce was not in the mood to deal with Loghain’s unwarranted suspicions. He told his family and everyone responsible for the upkeep of his Castle of the King’s visit at a meeting in the Antechamber. He made it clear to all the servants and the guards that nothing was to be out of place. Every room had to be kept clean, most especially the King’s Suite, reserved only for the King, and the Prince’s Chamber. With only a few days to prepare for the King’s arrival, everybody was busy cleaning and tidying up the Castle.

  
  


The last bit of cleaning, which was the stables outside of the Castle, was just completed when a horn blared in the distance and the guards at the gate responded likewise, lowering the gate that guarded the Cousland Castle. The King and his son, Prince Cailan, rode past through the gate, closely guarded on all sides by their personal bodyguards. Waiting for them at the entrance to the antechamber was the Cousland family, its members dressed in the family colours of blue and silver, with the head of a wolf etched on the men’s tunics.

  
  


King Maric sharply reined in his horse and his black stallion stopped in its tracks, its head shaking back and forth to show its dislike at being reined in so harshly. It quieted when Maric petted him gently to soothe his horse and he dismounted from his horse with a grace of a warrior.

  
  


Hadrian couldn’t help but stare at the large man dismounting. _This is the King?! He’s tall!_ The young Cousland watched the King of Ferelden take long strides to Bryce. The two men in charge of their families shook hands and then patted each other on the backs. Standing next to him was Prince Cailan, a young man in his late teens.

  
  


“Ho there, Bryce. Eleanor, it’s always a pleasure to see you, ” The King kissed her twice, one kiss on each cheek.

  
  


“And to you, your Majesty” Eleanor curtsied lowly.

  
  


“Come, let us go inside and converse where the air is chill and not so crowded.” Bryce suggested and he gestured for the royal duo to follow him into the room. The troupe gathered around the fireplace and goblets of the best wine the Couslands had were served out, even to the young boys. Fergus and Hadrian were busy talking with the Prince Cailan while the adults commenced in having a serious conversation.

  
  


“So how is everything back in Denerim?” Eleanor said and she sipped her drink. The King nodded numbly and he absently fingered the gold goblet in his hand.

  
  


“Prince Cailan is still taking his mother’s death rather hard; however, he’s coming along quite well in matters of court, even though he can be a dreamy sort of boy.”

  
  


“Cailan is a strong lad,” Bryce interjected with confidence and his optimism lightened the King’s mournful mood. Maric set his drink down on the oak table that was placed next to his chair.

  
  


“Yes, he is. Well, Bryce, how are your boys in their weapons training? I’ve heard good news on their battle prowess.”

  
  


“You do us too much flattery, your highness,”

  
  


“Please, Bryce, we’ve known each other for years and I’ve already asked you to stop calling me that. This is a talk between close friends, not king and subject.”

  
  


“Ah, old habits die hard, your maj-Maric,”

  
  


There was a light chuckle and Maric nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, old habits do die hard. It’s why I left Loghain at the Castle.”

  
  


“I have wondered why he wasn’t accompanying you,” Eleanor remarked on the absence of her friend’s advisor. She never liked Loghain but propriety dictates her to act respectfully towards him. She brushed some dust off her skirts before taking a sip of the wine again.

  
  


“Would you like to see them, Maric?” Bryce asked of his King, already rising out of his chair and placing the bottle of Antivan wine back into the storage unit, where the other expensive wines were.

  
  


“Yes, perhaps Cailan and Fergus will give us a good show? No, how about this young lad?”

  
  


The King of Ferelden’s gaze reverted back to the young boy who was quietly listening to the conversation between his older brother and Prince Cailan. He was quite shocked to see the boy with gray hair already and Bryce must have caught it for he merely smiled at his King.

  
  


“My great grandfather had silver hair when he was younger, as did Fergus. Hopefully, it will darken with age.”

  
  


“So he’s not aging as rapidly as I assumed then?” Only elves had coloured hair, colours that ranged from azule to a charcoal grey. The colours a human could have are the basic three: blonde, black, and brown. The hair would grey with age. His own mother had red-hair but she was an extraordinary woman, of great power and will. He heard from a Chasind Priest that the Gods marked those destined for great things with the colour of blood in their hair or the colour of the moon. He wondered if this would be true of the boy. He was brought out of his musings by another question and found himself nodding, even though he didn’t hear the question. Apparently, it was to see if he wanted them to start sparring immediately for the Cousland boys bowed to their sovereign before departing, with Prince Cailan in tow.

  
  


“We will go to the training grounds, near the stables. Right this way, your majesty.”

  
  


Maric sighed again, this time not even bothering to correct his old friend. He merely followed them, glad that for once he didn’t have to lead. The trio walked on the causeways that curved around the large estate of the Cousland Castle and ended up near the stables, on the southeast side. The smell of hay, sweat, and oil drifted but the King didn’t mind. He was long used to the smells of the stables, even the pungent stench of manure didn’t cause him to wrinkle his nose.

  
  


There were a few rows of stables, each holding a horse for the soldiers loyal to the Couslands. The Howe family had their own personal stable but Arl Howe and his family couldn’t make it to today’s occasion due to a prior engagement in the Free Marches. The training grounds were located just further south of the stables and Maric could see that they were well used, the grass stomped on and clumps of dirt dotted the ground.

  
  


The boys were found readying their weapons, already fitted in armor. His son, Prince Cailan, stood to the left side, clad in his old silver armor, one that he wore until he turned 20 summers. Standing opposite of his son was the Cousland’s youngest heir and Maric was quite pleased to see that young boy was growing into a man decently, even for one with sixteen summers under his belt. Hadrian’s armour, although not as nice as Cailan’s, still boasted of excellent quality and make. He was very surprised to see Hadrian equipped in heavy chainmail and he turned to Bryce for an explanation.

  
  


“Hadrian favours heavy armour,” Bryce simply explained, “but don’t be deceived by his slowness.”

  
  


“Very few men can move quickly in heavy armour, Bryce,” Maric pointed out his concern, slightly worried that Hadrian would embarrass himself in front of his liege and so soon. His friend gave a light chuckle and there was a wolfish grin on his face.

  
  


“Wait and see, old friend,” was all Bryce said before the show started.

  
  


Maric’s worry about his friend’s son embarrassing himself soon became unwarranted but he wasn’t worried about his son losing. Cailan had won numerous tournaments, thanks to intense training sessions by his father himself and another Quartermaster, Stefanus.

  
  


His son had the height and experience over Hadrian. Being three years older than his opponent, it was slightly unfair of him to be fighting someone as inexperienced as Hadrian. Perhaps Fergus would have given a better show.

His brother was good; no, he was very good, considering how long he’s holding out against Cailan’s merciless parries and thrusts.

There were a few times that Cailan had knocked his opponent to the ground with his shield but Hadrian managed to roll away from potential finishing blows and he would distract the Prince with an odd movement before standing back up again. The two boys went at it for four full rounds, each lasting three minutes each. Both were tired, Cailan having won the first and third round, with Hadrian winning the others. Maric watched the fourth session end with Hadrian slamming Cailan with his own shield, which was dropped earlier. The blonde Prince found himself lying on the ground, the business end of a sword pointing above his throat. The King hoped that Cailan would have the grace to yield and he was pleased to see Hadrian offer a hand to his son. Hadrian was brought up quite well in the Cousland household. Like his brother, he had good sportsmanship and did not think it to be beneath him to offer a helping hand to a downed partner.

  
  


He clapped his hands quite enthusiastically, showing the others around of his approval of the sparring sessions.

  
  


“Wonderful. Bryce, you were not joking about your son’s skills. He must attend the upcoming tournament. Yes, absolutely.”

  
  


The Summermere Tournament occurred on the evening of the 7th day of the season, with the weather being slightly warm but not overbearing in heat. The grounds would have time to dry and harden into packed dirt, safe for both humans and horses. Initiated by King Calenhad himself, the Tournament was an alternative to war; Almarri tribes didn’t have to wage war on each other just to show off their might. They could do so safely in an event where bloodletting was controlled and where all tribes were treated with respect under the same rules. The upcoming tournament was to be in its 100th year and King Maric made special arrangements for it. Unfortunately, due to the violence of the Tournament, an age restriction was placed on it and Hadrian would still be too young to participate, as Bryce pointed out.

  
  


“Hadrian only just reached his 16th summers. The minimum age of a participant is 18 springs.”

  
  


“Posh, Bryce. There have always been exceptions, especially when they have talents.” Maric waved off his friend’s concern and the King walked towards the youths. He laid a large hand on Hadrian’s shoulder and bestowed a paternal grin.

  
  


“You’ve done well, Hadrian. As proven to me through this display, I invite you to participate in the Summermere Tournament,”

  
  


The youth’s eyes grew bigger at being given such praise by his sovereign but he composed himself enough to bow his head. Maric smiled at the youth’s manners and he regarded his son Prince Cailan, who had an odd twinkle in his eyes.

  
  


“Cailan. It looks like you will have a fierce competition this time,” Maric said to his son, smiling wistfully at the blonde Prince.

  
  


“Yes, father. May I have a go with him again?”

  
  


“Hmm? Oh I see. We’ve had four rounds and you are tied. You never liked ties,” Maric observed and he stepped back to where he originally stood with the others.

  
  


“Do what you like boys,” Maric said over his shoulder, heading back to the castle with the other men following directly behind him. “Be sure to bathe and meet us in the dining room afterward.”

  
  


Maric trusted his son enough not to hurt Bryce’s lad and he had a feeling that perhaps with him watching, Cailan unconsciously fumbled out of anxiety and nervousness. The tall King then recalled that odd twinkle in Cailan’s eyes and he had a feeling that his son wanted some _alone_ time with Bryce’s son. He didn’t survive the Orlesian occupation and also throwing them out of Ferelden just using brute strength. To outwit those Orlesian bastards, one had to be equally intelligent if not more so. Lucky for Ferelden, Maric was a very smart man and a very observant one at that. Nothing escaped him, not even Loghain’s aspirations to tie himself closer to the throne. Yes, he knew what went on inside his best friend’s head but he hoped it was out of love for him and for Ferelden that Loghain’s ambition came into being. Thus, he acknowledged Cailan’s trysts with other nobles. Did he approve of it though? No, not really. Ferelden needed heirs to the Theirin throne. He told Cailan to keep things under wraps and he had full confidence that his boy was just going through a phase, like any other noblemen. He himself had fancied a hard body, especially when there was no woman to be found in the dark caves of the Deep Roads. However, he passed through that phase as soon as he saw Rowan. He just hoped that Cailan didn’t overstep himself in his old friend’s household.

  
  


Prince Cailan watched the crowd leave before facing his opponent.

  
  


“Fifth round. May the best man win,” Cailan said to his partner, who wordlessly picked up his weapon and shield. _Not very talkative in battle, is he?_ Cailan thought when his body crouched low in an offensive stance. Seeing his partner position himself in an equally offensive stance as well, Cailan charged at him, using an entirely different tactic than before. Hadrian was surprised by this and the blonde Prince took advantage of it by pressing in his attacks. Prince Cailan brought up his shield to halt a sword thrust and parried Hadrian’s longsword. He quickly smashed the shield in Hadrian’s face, causing his sparring partner to stumble backwards in a daze. With his opponent’s balance lost, the prince went into a low stance and kicked the boy’s feet out from underneath. Hadrian landed with a loud thud and the breath was knocked out of him. Stars temporarily swam in front of him and when they cleared, he saw a sword pointed at him, its tip dangerously close to his throat. Cailan’s brown eyes were sharp and seemingly merciless. For a moment, Hadrian thought this young Prince was going to kill him for besting him in the preceding rounds. His worry was unfounded though when Cailan gave him a warm smile and offered a hand instead. He was helped to his feet and was brought a little too close to Cailan, his breath coming out in soft whispers next to his cheek. Hadrian’s eyes widened in shock and darted to the side, trying to see if anyone else was watching. He knew that the King had already left the training grounds, walking and conversing with his parents. However, the _entire_ training grounds were left empty and bereft of humans. Only the sounds of horses nickering and naying to each other could be heard.

  
  


“I had heard stories of your prowess,” Cailan whispered softly in his ear. “ And of your preferences. But somehow there are none to be found about your other less known skills.” A hand gently groped the poor teenager and he let out an unmanly squeak before pushing Cailan away with his hands.

  
  


“Your highness is too kind to say so,” Hadrian managed to say without stammering but he could feel his face reddening and his ears felt too warm for his liking. “Pardon me, but I-I must take my leave now.”

  
  


“Well now, it seems as if I struck gold,” the Prince murmured and he watched the slowly disappearing back of his sparring partner. Nobody had ever refused his initial advances and this person had. He was quite intrigued by the young Cousland and vowed that the Cousland would be his, one way or another.

  
  


 

-o0o-

 

 

Prince Cailan thought that he was going to be hard-pressed in convincing Cousland to bed with him. He never thought it would be this difficult.

By the Maker, he loved being challenged but not like this and there was an urge to just take what he wanted. However, there were two things that stopped him. One, he may be Prince of Ferelden but he was still a visitor at someone else’s home and slaking his thirst would be an act of defiance and disrespect to the owner’s hospitality. If anything was constituted as rape with the Cousland’s youngest, his father would not only beat him with a paddle made out of whitewood (which really hurts), but his reputation would be absolutely ruinous. The last thing the blonde needs is someone to view him not only as an arrogant prince, but a dishonourable one that just takes what he wants. Secondly, as equally strong as his urge to just take the Cousland was a desire to see that smile on the face, to look at the eyes that would sparkle out of laughter and joy. He often sees Hadrian laugh and cajole with his friends. Sometimes, the young teenager would see him in turn, but would quickly avert his gaze, as if he didn’t want Cailan to notice his blush. Cailan did and that spurred his efforts even more. His partner was interested in him but he was hesitant and the next day Cailan knew why.

  
  


He was sparring with a couple of junior squires of Highever, the future Knights of the Cousland when a young man came by to talk with a redhead. The redhead very politely asked Cailan if they could take stop and the blonde Prince acquiesced to his request. The two lads chattered amongst themselves quite profusely, all the way from the sparring grounds to the showers. He was just about to put on his tunic and pants when he overheard a very interesting conversation. He looked over to the benches and saw the two boys conversing with one another. The redhead was toweling his hair, saying,

  
  


“Did you know that the Prince is regarding Hadrian very closely as of late?”

  
  


“Yes. I’ve heard tales of his regales with the other lot of nobles. Hear tell that he’s quite good with his hands and that’s not just from swordplay.”

  
  


The redhead winked at his partner, who blushed at the insinuation. The other boy began to dress.

  
  


“Well, he better watch out because his brother’s very protective with Hadrian, especially after what happened with him and that Howe’s kid, Nathan.”

  
  


“It’s not as if he can’t take care of himself though.”

  
  


“Yeah, were you able to see that match between him and the Prince? Just amazing!”

  
  


“Well, he’s not called the _Wolf_ of Highever for nothing, Lloyd,” the redhead guffawed out, already having put on his riding pants and top.

  
  


_So, he was involved with that Nathan character? Another secret of Rendown Howe._ Prince Cailan mused as he silently watched the pair take up their dirty clothes in their hands and stroll out of the showers. Prince Cailan’s mind worked overtime, trying to formulate a plan that would encourage Hadrian to be with him. Perhaps he should slow down in his advances and just wait it out.

  
  


-o0o-

  
  


It appears that good things do happen to he who waits as Cailan found out over the week of observation and interaction. His father had left for the Dragon’s Peak Bannorn to oversee a dispute between the vassals of the Bann. He promised to return and finish visiting with Bryce. The two men were childhood friends after all and seeing Bryce for only two days wasn’t long enough for the King apparently. Prince Cailan was left behind at the Cousland Castle and the blonde, who would usually protest at being stuck in another noble’s house, was surprisingly overjoyed. This did not escape his father's notice, however, and King Maric made a mental note of this. He would talk about this after dealing with the vassals.

  
  


To Cailan’s good luck, it was Hadrian’s birthday and he had already planned something special for him. He invited Hadrian to go walk with him in the woods and he expected for a refusal. When Hadrian agreed to it, Cailan’s heart burst with excitement but he kept himself composed. His excitement could be misconstrued as an eagerness to take Hadrian somewhere private and do the nasty, which for some reason, the blonde Prince did not want Hadrian to consider that. Explaining his action to his brother, Fergus, was another story. They were just about to head out when a male voice called out to them. Both recognized the timbers of the voice and Cailan inwardly cursed at the sight of Hadrian’s brother running towards them, a suspicious look in his eyes.

  
  


“Hadrian, I thought you were going to get ready for the party Mother setup for you.”

  
  


Much to Cailan’s credit, Hadrian sighed heavily and fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fergus, the party is not until the fourth hour for the Moon. It’s only three hours past midday.”

  
  


“You are clearly going somewhere with his highness though.”

  
  


_Damn, I forgot how intelligent Fergus is._ Cailan cursed to himself but he still kept a smile on his face.

  
  


“I am. We’ll be going to the woods. Don’t worry, I won’t take him near the Clearing.”

  
  


_Clearing? What is he talking about?_ Cailan got lost in the conversation between the two brothers. Fergus apparently noticed his confusion for the older brother suddenly embraced the younger one and was whispering something in a low voice, too low that Cailan couldn’t hear what he could be saying. The older teenager let go of Hadrian and pinned the Prince with a cold and knowing glare.

  
  


“Be safe out there, you two. Both fathers would be furious with me if you two got lost in the woods. That’s if I’m still alive from mother’s ranting.”

  
  


Without further ado, Fergus bowed to the Prince and headed towards back to the castle. Several guards looked on at the strange scene but as soon as Prince Cailan laid accusing eyes on them, they had a sudden urge to continue their duties. There was a soft giggle and Cailan was shocked to find that it was the boy beside him who made that girly sound.

  
  


“And what is so funny, Hadrian?” Cailan asked of his partner, already walking ahead of him and not wanting to see the cute flustered face.

  
  


“Ah nothing. It’s just so funny that every time I’m alone with someone, Fergus would stop and interrogate the poor guy.”

  
  


_But I thought you were a virgin_ … _could he have been with someone so soon after that conversation?_ A feeling of jealousy rose up and Cailan’s heart raced at the thought of someone else touching his intended. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Hadrian stopping beside him and taking his hand in his own.

  
  


“Don’t go that way,” Hadrian whispered softly to him, “that way is the Clearing.”

  
  


“Hmm?”

  
  


Cailan saw that there was indeed a nice pond up ahead of them, surrounded by large oak trees. There were no animals there, none of the usual lot that would come to the pond for some sustenance. No birds chirped around them and the Prince grew concerned at the lack of life in the area. Hadrian apparently wasn’t as indicated by him heading to the left path that wound its way away from the Clearing and heading more in a westerly direction, more towards the castle actually. Usually Cailan would be curious in strange places, wanting to discover if the lore around them would be truthful and not fantasy. The odd silence that hung over the Clearing gave off an ominous feeling and he much rather be with Hadrian than by himself in a strange part of the Breckland Woods. The two lads stopped talking but Hadrian was walking closer to Cailan than before. It felt like they had walked for the whole day when they finally stopped in another area, with a huge oak tree rising far above them. Its many branches provided them shelter should the Maker decide for the rains to come through and bless the world.

  
  


“Hadrian, what was that?” The Prince asked his partner, his eyes still taking in the majestic form of the tree that stood before him. The tree had a trunk that was wider than three men lying next to each other, from head to toe. Hadrian came by to stand next to the Prince, also looking up at the tree, although with reverence.

  
  


“You don’t know, your highness?”

  
  


If it were anyone else, Cailan would have taken this as an insult to his learning. However, it was Hadrian and he didn’t want to scare away the poor boy with his arrogance. Instead, he merely nodded to answer the question.

  
  


“I thought everyone knew of the tale. Even the squires in training know of this legend.”

  
  


“Please, don’t rub it in,” Cailan said in an exasperated tone. He was a well-learned boy, as expected of the heir to the throne. In fact, his father complained that he spent too much time with his nose in the book instead of training every hour of the day, both in battle and in court. He read of many tales and folklore that surrounded Thedas but he never heard of this Clearing on the Cousland lands.

  
  


“A long time ago, my ancestor had saved a wolf here. It was a Blue Wolf, in fact, and in return the Blue Wolf bestowed a boon to him and to his descendants. My ancestor honoured that boon but several years later, he was betrayed by a jealous lover and was killed right there, in that Clearing. There didn’t use to be a pond there,”

  
  


Hadrian told the Prince and he shivered, causing the Prince to embrace him tightly and try to warm him up. The teenager gave him a warm smile and he continued:

  
  


“His death was greatly mourned by everyone, but more so by the Blue Wolf he had saved. It was told that the pond was created out of my ancestor’s blood and no one could tread there. Anyone who did was never heard from again. To avoid any more accidents, my Father literally warned everyone, from us to the peasants living off the land that the Clearing was off limits, on pain of death. ”

  
  


“By the Maker, I’ve never heard of this before. You would think that a list of missing persons would raise questions and start wild rumours.”

  
  


“Well, there were a few rumours that got out but somehow something bad always happens to those who gossip about the Clearing.”

  
  


“Wait, we’re talking about it,”

  
  


Cailan wasn’t afraid of anything but who could fight a ghost?

  
  


“Don’t worry. Nothing happened to the Couslands for some reason. It’s as if we’re spared for some reasons.”

  
  


A gentle smile from Hadrian reassured him and he relaxed a little more. He sat at the bottom of the trunk, pulling Hadrian with him. Again, Hadrian did not try to shy away from him and Cailan was glad for this. He was starting to tire of the boy’s nervousness but anything was worth him being attentive by Hadrian.

  
  


He was just about to relax when something poked him in the ribs and the Prince remembered that there was a purpose in him being alone with Hadrian. His hand reached around his waist and pulled out a yellow flower, with purple markings in the centre.

  
  


“Umm...I got something for you, for your birthday.”

  
  


He offered the flower to Hadrian who took it in trembling hands. The boy didn't say anything except stare at the flower with wide eyes. The Prince started to panic when Hadrian still didn't say anything, not even a 'I'm not a flower type of guy.' He intrinsically gave up on this whole seduction plan and was about to get up when a hand stopped him.

  
  


He looked back and saw Hadrian giving him that _smile_ , the one reserved for him especially. _Maker's breath, maybe I'm the one being seduced here!_

  
  


“Do you know what flower this is?”

  
  


The question was asked in a very soft tone and Cailan wondered if he offended the poor lad.

  
  


“This is _Lupus Solaris_ , the Sun of the Wolf.”

  
  


“Oh, I...I didn't know that...” _Moron! You should have researched on that before giving it to him!_

  
  


Cailan mentally kicked himself for not doing that. Now, Hadrian's going to think he's a moronic idiot Prince.

  
  


“Don't worry about it. It is a very rare flower, very rare. In fact, I'm surprised you were able to find it in the first place. Where _did_ you find it by the way?”

  
  


Hadrian usually didn't talk very much, except when surrounded by close friends and family. The fact that he uttered more than a sentence shocked the Prince. Perhaps there was a good thing going for him.

  
  


“I actually found it by that pond you mentioned. I had no idea it was the Clearing until you told me just now.”

  
  


“Wait, you've been to the pond itself? Did you see anything?”

  
  


“Whoa, whoa! One question at a time!”

  
  


Cailan's hands were in front of him in a gesture to slow the Cousland down. The barrage of questions stopped and there was a soft laugh.

  
  


“No, I didn't see anything; I wish I did.” The Prince shivered, recalling the coldness, the lack of life in that area. He really had wished he saw something, anything that indicated life still lingered there.

  
  


Hadrian seemed pensive and the Prince wondered that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Something inexpressible crossed his features briefly before the boy straightened up from his leaning posture against the tree and he stepped closer to the Prince, easily closing into his personal space than was proper.

  
  


“I'm...I'm not quite sure...if this is right...” The boy bit his bottom lip and his eyes turned downwards, too shy to face the fair blonde. The last time he felt this way, he lost his lover and he didn't want to lose anyone else. The Prince standing right in front of him was perhaps not the right choice of a lover but every time he gazed into those mossy green eyes, he felt his will weakening and his body yearned for his touch. Where did this feeling come from? It had been almost two years since he last saw Nathan and just as long since he had any physical relationships. It's not as if he hadn't had any offers from visiting nobles or even some of his father's personal bodyguards, discrete as they were. He didn't feel the need to just whore himself out to every warm body that wanted him. He wanted something out of a relationship, something more than just a quickie.

  
  


“Hadrian?” The Cousland youngest startled, almost flinching when a gentle hand cupped his cheek. He looked up and found his thoughts flying out of the window when those same green eyes stared back at him, their smoldering depths almost causing him to tremble. He closed his eyes and leaned into the caress, eliciting a soft gasp from the Prince. Before he could do anything else, he felt something soft press against his lips. His eyes flew open only to shutter close as strong arms embraced his body and brought them closer to another warm body. The kiss deepened and a wet tongue teased his lips, silently begging for entrance. When Hadrian's lips parted, the tongue skillfully slithered inside and Hadrian couldn't help but moan as Cailan explored the hidden caverns that he had been yearning to explore ever since he first laid eyes on the youngest Cousland.

  
  


Cailan began to push his lover against the tree and before Hadrian could protest at the rough handling, a pair of hands began to undress him. Cailan's mouth moved from his lips and traveled downwards, nipping and sucking the divine skin that was displayed to him. Moans drifted to Cailan's ears and he smiled when Hadrian gasped as he bit gently into a pert nipple. Another soft moan was elicited out of the boy when the hurt was smoothed over by a firm tongue. _So responsive! I wonder if he's still a virgin, if maybe Nathan had already taken him..._

With that thought in mind, he stopped his ministrations and was amused to hear a quiet whine when he did. He stood up from his kneeling position and kissed Hadrian again, passionately, the thought of someone having already taken him causing him to become more rough with the kiss, more demanding.

  
  


“C-Cailan! W-w-wait! Mffphh!”

  
  


Cailan had always been a considerate lover and Hadrian would not be the first one to break that record. He pulled back and once again, became fully aroused at the flustered face.

  
  


“Tell me, Hadrian. Has anyone taken you yet?” The question brought a deeper rouge to the boy's cheeks and Hadrian turned his head away, too embarrassed to answer his question. The action alone told the Prince his answer and he laughed quietly to himself, causing Hadrian to bestow him an angry scowl.

  
  


“This-this is no laughing matter!” Hadrian stuttered angrily.

  
  


He didn't want the Prince to think him weak. He was the best in the sword and shield department, and forerunner to being the best in the two-handed sector. He was strong in his social skills and his diplomacy tactics was almost unmatched. However, when faced with this devastatingly handsome _Prince_ of Ferelden, it seemed as if his mind just dumbed itself and he couldn't think of anything smart to say.

  
  


“No, this isn't a laughing matter,” Cailan said huskily, his eyes holding those of his counterpart's in a steadfast but heated gaze. “I've never taken a virgin before and I don't want to hurt you.”

  
  


Hadrian's eyes became as wide as saucers at the implication in Cailan's voice and he shuddered. _Taken? That's painful! Nathan did the first part, with his fingers, but we never got around to the last part._

  
  


_“_ It's getting late though,” Cailan stepped back, allowing Hadrian to breathe. He offered a hand to his partner and there was a genuine smile etched on that handsome face. “Your mother will be waiting for us and that should give you plenty of time to think about this.”

  
  


Hadrian placed his slightly smaller hand in Cailan's and the pair made way back to the castle, fully aware that they were standing much closer to each other and they didn't mind each other.

  
  


-TBC-


End file.
